


True Children Still

by gracerene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Play, Age Play Little Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Aurors, Blow Jobs, Daddy Dom Draco Malfoy, Daddy Kink, Dating, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Endearments, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Internalized Kink Shaming, Italy, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Minor Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Hogwarts, Praise Kink, Sub Harry Potter, Subspace, Switching, littlespace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracerene/pseuds/gracerene
Summary: After years of dancing around each other, Draco and Harry have finally begun to date, though they're taking things slow. They've got enough to figure out as it is, and the last thing Harry needs is an unexpected introduction to desires he's not quite ready to face.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 224
Kudos: 856
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[190B](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#).
> 
> I was _extremely_ excited when I saw this year's Fan Fair theme, and I knew I had to participate! Thank you to the mods for continuing to host this fandom staple, and to the unbeatable team of wondrous humans—firethesound, MalenkayaCherepakha, & nerdherderette—who went through this fic with a fine-tooth comb! <3
> 
> Title comes from the quote from Johann Von Goethe: _"Age does not make us childish, as some say it only finds us true children still."_

"Got a new case for you," Head Auror Robards announced as he stopped by Harry's desk.

Harry perked up. He'd been planning to work his way through the towering backlog of paperwork that was balancing precariously on the edge of his desk, but working a case sounded much more interesting. The paperwork could wait.

"What have you got for me?"

"Nothing too exciting, I'm afraid. We just need to get a statement," Robards replied, leaning against Harry's desk and nearly toppling the unstable tower of paperwork. But for all that he was a large man, he still had the lightning-fast reflexes that had helped to earn him his position as Head Auror. He saved the tower from falling with a quick spell and a slightly reproachful look at Harry before continuing, "A woman was attacked outside her flat last night. She was robbed and banged up with some pretty nasty hexes, though she managed to escape before too much damage was done. We've been short-staffed because of that new Snidget Flu going around and we weren't able to get anybody out to St Mungo's before she was released. I know we usually send out one of the junior Aurors for this kind of thing, but unfortunately most of them have all caught the blasted flu."

Harry nodded and held out his hand. Taking statements wasn't as exciting as taking down an illegal potions ring, but it was necessary work. And, more importantly, it was still more interesting than filling out case forms.

"Li's still out," Harry said. His Auror partner, Sue Li, had been one of the first to come down with the flu and she'd been laid up for nearly a week now, though she'd sent Harry an owl last night to say she was feeling much better and should be back to work soon. "Should I go alone or do you want me to take somebody else with me?"

Robards's face creased with a subtle grimace. "I'd say you're more than equal to the task on your own, but the higher-ups have been on my arse lately about not sending anybody out alone after what happened with Jenkins." He ran a hand over his face, his brow furrowed as he seemed to mentally flick through the list of available Aurors. 

"Goldstein owled in this morning, which means the case he and his partner were working on will need to be put on hold for the time being." Harry swallowed, realising what Robards was intending the moment before he continued, "Why don't you go ahead and take Malfoy with you, he should be free today."

"Sure thing, sir," Harry said, hoping his voice didn't sound as strangled as it felt.

Robards gave him a hard stare, and Harry did his best to look innocent and unconcerned, though he was fairly certain his red-hot cheeks were giving him away. But Robards just nodded before leaving with a request that Harry let him know once they had their statement. The moment he was out of sight, Harry folded over his desk, resting his forehead against the back of his clasped hands as he tried to get his ridiculous body under control. 

It wasn't as if he and Draco hadn't worked with one another before—they'd gone through three years of training together and had collaborated on multiple teams and task forces in the six years since they'd become fully-fledged Aurors. 

Of course, all of that was before last night. 

Things felt different now that they were… something. Harry wasn't sure he was quite ready to call what they were doing dating, exactly, even though last night had most definitely been a date, the two of them sharing a nice meal together before Draco walked him home. It had been relatively chaste compared to some of the other first dates Harry had been on, but that goodnight kiss on Harry's doorstep had made Harry's stomach flutter and cramp with want, and it had taken all of Harry's willpower not to invite Draco inside for a 'nightcap'. 

The date had been a long time coming. Auror Training had been rocky at first, given all the history between them. But Draco had been dedicated and hard-working, and though Harry hadn't been all that swayed by his initial apology, seeing him actually strive to be a better person, to learn and grow… _that_ had gone a long way towards changing Harry's feelings towards Draco. After three years of training together, they were something almost like friends. In the six years since, that friendship had grown and evolved into something a little different, as Harry realised his appreciation for Draco's sharp smile and strong shoulders and broad hands was a little more than friendly.

It had taken quite a while before Harry realised he wasn't the only one feeling that way, and even longer for him to actually do something about it. Harry couldn't deny that he wanted Draco, but he still wasn't entirely convinced that dating him was a good idea. He wasn't sure a relationship between them could ever really work. It had taken a lot of hard work to get him and Draco to a place of friendship instead of animosity, and though Harry had seen first-hand the strides Draco had made to become a better person, Harry still struggled with his feelings for him. It was one thing to believe that Draco wasn't the hateful, bigoted child he'd once been and decide he was worth befriending; it was another thing entirely to want him so desperately, knowing all the terrible things he'd done. It was something Harry was truthfully still coming to terms with, just as he knew Draco was still working on making peace with his own past while figuring out how to atone for his sins and build a new future for himself. Draco had his own reasons to be wary, to be cautious of a romantic entanglement with the _Saviour_ , and they both were well aware that everybody and their mother would have opinions to share if their relationship were to develop and become public knowledge. 

So for now they were taking it slow and seeing where things went, feeling one another out to determine if the heat between them had any real potential or if it was just flashpaper, burning hot but brief. Harry knew it was smart not to rush into anything. He knew it was the reasonable, _adult_ thing to do, but fuck if he wasn't already tired of waiting. One date, and Harry was all dreamy sighs and stomach flutters, feeling more like a schoolboy with his first crush than he'd ever felt when he was _actually_ a schoolboy. Just hearing Malfoy's name from Robards had Harry melting in his seat, giddy anticipation flooding his system at the thought of getting to spend the day with him. Which was probably a bit fucked up, considering they were spending time together to interview a likely traumatised young witch about her recent assault. 

"I heard I'm with you today," drawled a smooth, familiar voice that sent shivers tingling down Harry's spine. He raised his head from his hands, his heart skipping a beat as he locked eyes with Draco Malfoy, who was lounging gracefully against the edge of Sue Li's empty desk.

Draco raised a single eyebrow, an amused smile playing about his lips. Harry swallowed as he pressed his chair back from the desk and licked his lips. Draco's gaze darted down to Harry's mouth, and Harry's hands gripped his armrests in an effort to restrain himself from leaping up and kissing Draco breathless. Fuck, he didn't know how he was going to survive an entire day of this.

"Yeah," Harry said, managing to force the words out of his dry throat. "Robards needs me to take a statement on an assault case. You're my babysitter."

Draco's smile widened as he gave Harry a slow once-over. "I can think of worse ways to spend the day."

Harry's cheeks warmed and he cleared his throat. "Right. Well. Shall we head out?" He looked down at the file Robards had given him, scanning it for an address. "St Mungo's already sent our victim back home with an order to take it easy for the next few days, so I figure we'll drop by her flat."

Draco nodded. "We can head to her place of work if she's not in, but hopefully she was able to take the day off after a night like that."

"Agreed." Harry stood and grabbed his scarlet Auror robes off the hook next to his desk, shrugging them on before gesturing in the direction of the Ministry Atrium. "After you."

"So chivalrous," Draco murmured, a low, seductive edge to his words that had Harry's stomach flipping as he followed him out of the department. He'd made a similar comment last night on their date when Harry had held the door open for Draco as they'd left the restaurant. They'd walked companionably back to Grimmauld Place afterward, Harry's heart jumping every time their fingers accidentally brushed together. Harry's gaze darted down to those fingers now, the smooth polished fingernails, the perfectly maintained cuticle beds, the prominent knuckle bones that would feel so good stretching— 

"Do you want to meet there, or shall we Side-Along?"

"Hmm?" Harry blinked and tore his focus away from Draco's hands, realising they were already at the Apparition Platform in the Atrium. "Oh, right. Err… maybe we should Side-Along. Since we're going to the same place anyway," Harry added, not wanting to seem overly eager to get his hands on Draco despite that being very much the case.

Draco's lips twitched as if he were fighting a smile, but he gamely held his arm out to Harry. "Of course," he said solemnly. "I'd hate for us to land right on top of one another." The hot gleam in his eyes belied that particular statement, and Harry's belly gave another enthusiastic shiver. 

"You," Harry began, "are being _very_ distracting." He tried to sound scolding, but his voice was a little too breathless to come off as anything other than encouraging.

"Am I?" Draco asked as Harry took his arm, sounding far too pleased with himself. He leaned in, his breath hot against Harry's ear as he continued in a low murmur, "My _sincerest_ apologies, Harry."

Harry's breath caught as he turned to give Draco a half-hearted glare. "You're going to wish you'd done more than apologise when you get us splinched because I can't concentrate properly."

Draco flashed him a wry grin, but he edged back just a tad, enough so that the scent and feel of him wasn't quite so overwhelming. Harry took a deep breath, focused on their destination, and Apparated them both.

They materialised at the Apparition Point in Chelsea, right at the edge of the wizarding street that ran parallel to King's Road. The sweet smell of pancakes wafted in from the next street, reminding Harry that it was nearly time for lunch. Perhaps he and Draco could grab a bite once they'd finished with their interview. Not like a date, or anything—they were still on the clock after all—but just a nice, platonic luncheon between colleagues. Of course, Harry wouldn't exactly be opposed to another date, if that was on the table, but it hadn't even been twenty-four hours since the last one and Harry didn't want to seem overly keen, especially given that he was still trying to detangle the mess that was his feelings for Draco.

"I think the victim's flat is just a couple of streets away," Draco said, glancing down at the file that he must have taken from Harry at some point while Harry was distracted by Draco's… everything. He started off at a brisk pace down the road, and Harry scurried after him. Draco wasn't more than an inch or two taller than Harry but it was apparently all in his legs, and Harry had to practically run to keep up with his stride.

"This is it," Draco announced as he came to an abrupt stop, so sudden that Harry didn't have enough time to halt his momentum before barrelling right into him.

"Shit, sorry," Harry mumbled, grabbing hold of Draco's arm to keep himself from pitching forward onto the pavement. His bicep was firm beneath Harry's fingers, the muscle flexing as he righted himself. Harry stared at where he gripped Draco, struck with the knowledge that he'd never seen Draco's bare arms before, and was overcome with the sudden and powerful urge to do so right that very moment. He'd always been attracted to muscular, athletic bodies—in men and women alike—and the sinewy strength beneath his grip sent a bolt of lust straight through him.

"Are you planning to let go of me anytime soon?" Draco's tone was more playful than accusatory, but Harry quickly released him, the red of the Auror's robes beneath his fingertips reminding him that they were on duty. 

Harry cleared his throat and looked up at the swanky set of flats in front of them, pretending that he hadn't just been caught fondling Draco in the middle of the workday.

"Right, well, shall we knock then?"

"Yes, of course," Draco replied, clearly amused, though Harry refused to look over at him and give him the satisfaction of seeing first-hand how flustered he made Harry.

Harry climbed up the front steps, Draco a solid presence behind him as he reached out to give the door a firm rap. They only had to wait a few moments before the door swung open, revealing an attractive gentleman who looked to be in his mid-forties. His brow was creased with annoyance but his expression quickly cleared when he caught sight of the Auror uniforms.

"Oh, hello. I was wondering when you lot would show up. I take it you're here to speak to Emily?"

"Yes, Mr…?"

"Newton. Graham Newton. I'm Emily's fiancé." He held out a hand to Harry, then Draco, his grip dry and firm.

"Right, pleased to meet you. I'm Auror Potter, and this is Auror Malfoy, and yes, we're here to speak with Emily about what happened last night."

Graham ran a hand through his hair, rumpling his perfect salt-and-pepper coiff. "We expected the Aurors would send somebody earlier, when we were still at St Mungo's." His tone wasn't exactly accusatory, but Harry felt chastened all the same. As understaffed as they were at the moment, they weren't able to respond as quickly as they should have in this situation. 

"I apologise for the delay. Is Emily available now? This shouldn't take long, and the sooner we can get her official statement, the sooner we can start investigating."

Graham hesitated. "She's a little… indisposed right now. I actually need to be getting back to her, but I suppose… If you wouldn't mind…"

"Is she playing?" Draco asked quietly, and Harry glanced over at him in confusion, baffled by the sudden line of inquiry.

Graham gave Draco a startled look, peering at him intently before his expression cleared with apparent recognition, his eyes softening. "Ah, yes, I didn't recognise you in this uniform. She's playing, yes. She was quite shaken up after last night."

"I can only imagine," Draco said kindly. "Is she too far down to speak to us? If not, and if it's within your limits, I assure you my partner and I won't judge. Since we're already here, it really would be preferable if we could speak to her now so that we can get to work on bringing her assailant to justice."

Graham's jaw hardened. "Yes, yes, that should be fine. You actually might get better answers out of her if you speak to her now. Emily's got a history of blocking out past trauma, and the Healers at St Mungo's weren't able to get many details about the attack when she first came in. She was starting to respond to me a bit just before you got here."

He stepped out of the doorway, waving Harry and Draco inside before shutting the door and turning to Draco. "It's within her limits for me to invite a limited number of people over while she's playing, but I'd still like to make sure she's all right with being questioned before you see her. If you want to follow me upstairs, you can wait outside the door until I give the go-ahead." He gave Draco a hard stare. "Unfortunately, if she's not feeling up to it, I'll have to invite you both back to question her later." His tone brooked no argument, and Draco didn't seem inclined to give him one.

"Of course, I absolutely understand," Draco said, sincere and empathetic. Harry stared at him, entirely lost, as Graham turned and walked up the stairs. Draco made a move to follow, but Harry grabbed hold of his robes and held him back.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered. "You know our victim?"

"Not well. I realised I'd seen them around a few times out on the scene."

"The scene? Like, of the crime?"

Draco snorted. "No, not like that. You'll see soon enough. Just don't react, okay? I told Graham we'd be professionals, so try not be too weirded out about whatever we see. If you need me to, I can take point. I'm probably more familiar with this kind of thing, and I can explain things to you afterwards." Harry bristled at the insinuation, and Draco held up his hands in placation. "Sorry, I know I sound like a prick, but you'll understand in a minute. It'd be better if I had more time to explain, but we should probably get up there sooner rather than later. Trust me, okay?"

Harry huffed out a frustrated breath but nodded and released his hold on Draco's robes. Draco gave him one last measured look before heading up after Graham, leaving Harry to follow. 

The door at the end of the hallway was open just a crack, enough so that Harry could hear the low rumble of Graham's voice, followed by a higher, softer lilt. A few moments later, Graham emerged and gave them a small smile.

"She's agreed to speak with you," Graham said, once again addressing Draco. Harry might have been offended, but it was clear there was something going on here he didn't quite understand. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that she's in a quite vulnerable state, so I'd ask you to be mindful of the way you phrase your questions. If you need more information, you're welcome to return later."

Draco nodded, and Graham held open the door, ushering them inside.

Harry had expected to perhaps find Emily in bed, resting after her ordeal. What he hadn't expected was to see the woman—who appeared to be close to Harry's age—sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by baby dolls. She was wearing a frilly pink dress, much like the kind that Rose was always begging Ron and Hermione to buy for her, much to Hermione's consternation. Emily's hair was braided into two neat pigtails, a bright pink bow adorning the end of each plait. Harry blinked, looking instinctively over at Draco in confusion, who gave him another pointed stare.

"These nice gentlemen are here to speak to you about last night, princess," Graham was saying to Emily, crouching down so he was on her level. "Do you think you could put your toys down for a moment and answer their questions?"

Emily frowned, looking over at Harry and Draco before focusing on the doll in her hands. "Can Sophie come?"

He glanced over at Draco, who nodded. "Of course, Em. They just have a couple of questions, and then you can go back to playing."

Emily nodded. "Will you play, too? Sophie wants her prince." She looked over towards the toy chest in the corner where the handsome crowned head of a male doll was sticking out of the chaos.

Graham smiled at her, a soft, gentle thing that for some strange reason made Harry's chest ache. "Absolutely, princess. But first, we've got to speak with our friends."

"Okay, Daddy!" She grinned at him, toothy and completely unselfconscious, before turning that smile onto Harry and Draco. "Hi, I'm Emily!"

Harry's eyes widened, and he looked once more at Draco, who gave a small, unconcerned shrug. Had they stepped into a parallel universe? Was Harry hallucinating? What possible other reason was there for a grown woman to be dressed up as a little girl and calling her fiancé _Daddy_ , and for everybody but Harry to be acting like there was nothing at all bizarre about it? But Draco had asked Harry to trust him, and it was clear there was something going on that he didn't understand. He could ask Draco about it later, but for now, they had an interview to conduct.

He dipped his head towards Draco, tacitly acknowledging that Draco should indeed be taking point on this interview. Draco nodded before returning his focus to Emily and flashing her a wide smile that made Harry's knees go weak.

"Hi Emily," Draco said kindly as he lowered himself down into a squat. "I'm Draco, and this is my friend, Harry. Do you mind if we sit and ask you some questions?"

* * *

Harry waited until he and Draco were safely ensconced in their corner table at the chippy, steaming baskets of fish and chips in hand, before throwing up a discreet _Muffliato_ and giving Draco the best _what the actual fuck?_ look he could manage.

Draco, for his part, appeared to be doing his best to ignore him, tearing into his food with a little too much gusto. He yelped as his fingers prodded at the still-molten batter, throwing the fish back into the basket and shaking his hand, a sheen of hot oil coating his fingertips. Harry only allowed himself a brief moment to think of Draco's slick fingers in a far more pleasant context before focusing back at the issue at hand.

"That's what you get for ignoring me," Harry said primly as Draco cast a Healing Charm on his burnt fingers.

"I wasn't _ignoring_ you," Draco said with a huff. "You didn't even say anything."

"Semantics," Harry mumbled as he deemed his chips cool enough to consume. "But fine. Are you going to tell me what the bloody hell was going on back there? Because that"—Harry gestured with a particularly lengthy chip in the general direction of Emily's flat—"was not normal. She was acting like a—like a _child_. We should have been calling for the Healers and admitting her to Janus Thickney, not interviewing her as if she wasn't in the middle of a psychotic break!"

Draco frowned and looked away, reaching for the bottle of vinegar and dousing his chips with a surprising amount of vigour as he said shortly, "If you really thought that, we wouldn't be here right now."

"You told me to trust you," Harry replied simply.

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, flashing with shock and pleasure, and Harry's cheeks grew warm. He felt a little too exposed, so he hastened to add, "And you seemed to have more information about whatever the hell was happening than I did."

"Yes, I suppose I did," Draco said softly. He looked back down at his meal, prodding at his fish with a hesitant finger to test the temperature, as a tiny smile plumped his cheeks. 

"All right, then. Care to share with the class?"

Draco sighed, something resigned and wary and a little regretful crossing his face. 

"I assume you've heard of kink and BDSM?"

Harry's eyes grew wide. That… had not been what Harry was expecting. Or, well, maybe that wasn't entirely accurate, because something about the way Emily and her fiancé had interacted had struck a strange chord within Harry. It hadn't felt precisely sexual the way he thought kink was supposed to be, but Draco throwing out that term wasn't quite as shocking as he would've thought. Still, hearing Draco—the bloke he was kind-of-maybe dating—saying things like _BDSM_ so casually set Harry's entire body on fire. He cleared his throat around the sudden dryness.

"Err, yes. Like whips and blindfolds and stuff?"

Draco winced. "Partially. It's a lot more varied and nuanced than that, though. Plenty of people in the community aren't into whips or blindfolds at all. There are a lot of different kinds of relationships and dynamics that people engage in under the BDSM umbrella. Emily and Graham are one of them."

Harry wasn't particularly familiar with BDSM, but he'd imagined it with more leather and paddles, and less princess dresses and baby dolls. 

"So the whole, erm…" Harry's heart skipped a beat as he forced the words out, "Daddy thing?"

Draco's fair cheeks grew pink and he paused to take a large bite of fish, seeming to ponder as he chewed. "Yes, the Daddy thing. Traditional BDSM relationships generally involve at least one Dominant and one submissive partner. What that looks like can vary, but I'd say that Graham is pretty clearly a Daddy Dom, and Emily is his little girl. Those kinds of relationships are usually less focused on things like impact or sensory play—those whips and blindfolds you mentioned—and more about care and nurturing. Though, of course, there's an element of punishment when necessary."

Harry chose to ignore Draco's mention of punishment and the way it made his breath catch.

"So today, when we showed up, they were… playing?"

"Essentially, yes. They were in the middle of an ageplay scene. Part of the appeal for the submissive in that kind of relationship is the opportunity to let go of all the responsibility of the adult world and drop into a headspace that's more childlike and carefree. Playing with dolls and dressing up in bows and frilly dresses and knowing that she has a Daddy to care for and protect her helps get Emily into that place. And it sounds like she was in particular need of it after the attack."

Harry reached for his fish and bit into the no-longer-searing morsel. It was delicious—crisp outside, soft and flaky inside—and he tried to focus on the warm, tasty food instead of the chaotic thoughts bouncing around in his mind. He was completely out of his depth with whatever they'd witnessed today, and he had so many _questions_. Harry did his best not to judge, but it seemed so bizarre. Did Emily truly enjoy giving control to somebody else, playing with toys and pretending to be a child while her partner, whom she called _Daddy_ , watched over her? Harry's stomach flipped and he shifted in his seat.

"So, err," he began, when the silence stretching between them began to grow awkward. "What made you realise Graham and Emily had that kind of relationship?"

Draco's eyes widened momentarily before he shoved a truly gigantic chip into his mouth. He hummed questioningly, as if he hadn't quite heard Harry the first time. A little flag popped up in the back of Harry's mind and he narrowed his eyes. Draco was stalling.

"Back at their flat, you recognised him. Graham was all set to kick us out before you all but told him that you knew he was into some kinky shit and that we wouldn't say anything about it. He just looked like a normal bloke to me, so how did you know about the Daddy stuff?"

Draco's lips pulled into a reluctant frown, but if he knew Harry at all, he'd know that Harry wasn't about to let this one go. He sighed, seeming to come to that very conclusion.

"I did recognise him. It took me a minute, as I wasn't expecting it, but I've… seen him and Emily around before."

Harry's eyes widened as realisation dawned. "And when you say you've seen them _around_ …?"

Draco sighed again, pulling the batter off the last of his fish with those long fingers of his. "We frequent some of the same establishments in London. Those that cater to people with more… particular tastes."

"Oh," Harry said dumbly, not sure how to process the fact that the bloke he fancied had an entirely different sort of experience than Harry had even known to wonder about. He cleared his throat. "So are you like Graham or Emily then?" he asked, attempting to sound casual and no doubt failing utterly.

Draco barked a sudden laugh. "Oh, neither, really. I mean, I suppose I'd say I'm more like Graham than Emily, but you remember how I said the dynamics are different depending on what you're into?" Harry nodded, and Draco continued, "Well, most of the men I've been with weren't really coming to Draco Malfoy for the nurturing sort of Dom." He flashed a small, self-deprecating smile. "I can see the appeal of that kind of dynamic, for both parties"—he gave Harry a strangely penetrating stare—"and I've gone there a few times before for partners in the past, but it's never led to any kind of sustained arrangement."

Harry blinked, feeling awkward and overwhelmed. Given his and Draco's decision to take their relationship as slow as treacle, they had been pretty actively _not_ talking about sex. Harry hadn't thought he'd be able to make it through that kind of conversation without jumping Draco's bones, so all talk of past relationships and sexual preferences had been unofficially tabled until they'd decided this thing between them was going somewhere and they were ready to take that next step. He'd really not expected their first conversation on the topic to be about Draco's secret penchant for kink, and Harry had no idea what it meant for their maybe-relationship. Would Draco expect Harry to submit to him? Could Harry do it if that was what Draco wanted? Would he _want_ to do it? 

Before today, Harry would have thought the answer to that last question would be an emphatic _no_ , but there was strange heat in his belly that indicated perhaps he wasn't as opposed to the idea as he might have believed. Yes, it all seemed a little baffling and strange, but it was the kind of strange that made Harry want to dig deeper and learn more. There'd been a spark of feeling inside of him earlier as he watched Graham and Emily interact, something not unlike envy and longing. He wanted to deny it, to pretend he hadn't recognised what those feelings might mean, but he generally wasn't very good at lying to himself, even when he really, really wanted to.

Once again, the silence dragged on between them, and Draco bit his lip, his expression nervous and unsure. 

"I was planning to tell you about all of this eventually, of course. It's something I enjoy, and most of my past relationships have had an element of kink, but it's not… it's not something I _need_." He winced and wiped his greasy fingers on his napkin, having finished with picking apart the rest of his fish into tiny flakes. "If it's not something you're interested in exploring, I don't want you to feel pressured. I've never been into any of the lifestyle stuff, and it's always been more of a bonus for me as opposed to something that's necessary." 

Draco slumped back into his chair, his lips pulling into a darkly amused smile as he continued.

"Salazar, what a bloody nightmare. I was really hoping we'd have a bit longer to figure things out between us before I scared you off with the whole kink thing. I mean…" He paused and made a face before seeming to force himself to continue as he met Harry's gaze, "I still want to see where this thing goes." He gestured between them. "We both know the odds are stacked against us, but I don't want this to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. If it freaks you out, I promise it's not something we ever have to pursue. We can forget about it"

"I'm not freaked out," Harry said, only lying a little bit. He didn't want this to break them, either, though, truthfully, he still wasn't sure what he felt. There was a lot to process.

Draco huffed a laugh. "You're usually a better liar than that."

"That's not actually a compliment, you know."

"It is when you're a pure-blood Slytherin," Draco said with a shrug and a shaky grin.

Harry rolled his eyes, but some of the tension began to leach out of his muscles with the return of the familiar banter.

"I'm still processing," he admitted, figuring if Draco was brave enough to tell Harry about his BDSM experience, Harry could be brave enough to share where his head was at, not that he had a clue where that was. "Honestly, I don't really know how I'm feeling about it, or what I may or may not want. But what if I promise not to make any executive decisions about our… relationship, without discussing things with you first? If we do continue to see one another, I'm sure I'll have a bunch of questions eventually."

Draco nodded, relief flickering in his eyes. "Yes, of course. I'm happy to answer any questions you have."

"Okay, great," Harry replied, his cheeks growing inexplicably hot. "In the meantime, we should probably discuss the actual case. You know, the reason why we were there interviewing Emily in the first place?"

Draco laughed. "Yes, of course. It looks like we're done eating. Shall we head back to the office to transcribe and file her statement?"

Harry made a face. More paperwork.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three days since he and Draco had conducted that particularly illuminating interview with Emily Sheffield, and Harry could not stop thinking about it. He thought about it at work as he finally made his way through his backlog of paperwork. He thought about it at home as he mechanically chopped vegetables for a homemade ratatouille. He thought about it late at night as he lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. It wasn't the actual interview itself that occupied his every thought—sadly, violent assaults on solitary witches weren't exactly an uncommon occurrence—but rather the dynamic he and Draco had witnessed between the victim and her fiancé. That, and the information Draco had confided in him afterwards about his own… predilections.

Harry had already been aware of the existence of kink and BDSM, of course—he wasn't a prude by any means—but he'd never felt the need to learn any more about it, quickly dismissing the practice as not really for him. Giving or receiving pain had never particularly appealed, nor had the idea of heavy bondage or crawling around on his knees while calling somebody _Sir_. Frankly, the idea of it sounded horrifying and degrading for both parties, and though Harry did his best not to judge others for what they liked in bed, he'd not felt the slightest interest in experimenting with any of that himself. 

His blanket dismissal had apparently prevented Harry from ever realising that there was more to kink than the more extreme S&M aspects that pop culture always seemed to focus on; there was a softer, gentler side. Harry most emphatically did _not_ want a Master (or to be one, for that matter), but having somebody to take care of him, to cherish him… well, Harry could maybe see the appeal in that. He thought of Emily and how happy and carefree she looked, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by pretty dolls, the way her face had lit up with uncomplicated joy when she showed off their outfits to her Daddy who praised them and her both. It made Harry's belly squirm and wriggle, hot with envy and want and shame. 

Did he really desire that for himself? 

Harry hadn't ever had a proper parent, nor a traditional childhood. There'd been nobody to love him unconditionally, nobody to make him feel safe and cared for and adored. The only toys he'd had to play with were Dudley's broken hand-me-downs, useless and discarded, castoffs much like Harry himself had been. He usually did his best not to think about it; there was no use crying over the past, especially given all the true horrors he'd eventually had to live through. Yet the pain of it had lingered like a bruise, forgotten until pressed against, bringing forth a tender ache. 

Harry imagined himself in Emily's place, his cheeks burning with shame at the squirmy pleasure that suffused his body at the image. He knew he shouldn't desire it, that it was weak to want to act like a baby, that he should be strong enough not to desperately crave such freedom of responsibility. But now that he'd seen the possibility, he was powerless to ignore its allure. How lovely would it be, to be the one taken care of instead of the one always doing the caring? How liberating, to want for nothing more than to play, and to please? 

He wasn't so sure about that Daddy bit, though; that seemed to be taking things a bit far. Particularly given his plethora of issues related to the death of just about every person who'd ever been a father figure to him. But Draco had said that kinky relationships came in all different shapes, so maybe he didn't need a _Daddy_ , not exactly, even though just thinking the word sent a white-hot bolt of lust-tinged shame spearing through him. 

Not just because of the word itself, but who he pictured when he thought it. When Harry thought of himself in this hazy, blissful place, relaxed and safe and happy, his caretaker wasn't some nameless, faceless figure. Of course not. It was none other than Draco running those long, strong fingers through Harry's wild hair, telling him how sweet and perfect he was, how good he was being for him. 

It was… bizarre. 

When Harry thought of somebody caring and nurturing, Draco wasn't exactly the first—or even the thirtieth—person on the list. Draco was sharp and caustic, with a pointed, acerbic wit, and a barbed exterior that was prone to prick anybody who got too close. Harry would have thought it'd be easier to picture Draco wielding a whip rather than petting and praising, but apparently his subconscious had no issues with the latter. It was disconcerting to say the least, imagining Draco in such a role, but there was something about it that was strangely alluring. Harry had learned long ago to trust his instincts, and they told him now that Draco would be willing and able to give Harry this odd, confusing thing that he was starting to think he might want. That perhaps Draco might even want and need it too, in his own way. 

Still, it was a hard thing to reconcile. Harry was only just starting to wrap his head around the fact that he wanted to _date_ Draco, let alone engage in something so much more intimate. Of course, he wanted to fuck Draco, but that was completely different. Harry had his fair share of meaningless sexual encounters, enough to know that sex without connection and intimacy was entirely possible, if not exactly what he personally wanted. Dating and becoming true partners was something else entirely, something _more_ , something he and Draco were still navigating, still deciding if it was worth the risk. Some might even think they were being overly cautious—which wasn't something Harry was often accused of—but he knew once they crossed that line, it'd be too late to take it back, and Harry felt they were more than justified in worrying that a relationship between them would be doomed to implode.

With all of that baggage, did Harry really want to add another layer of complication into the mix? He wasn't even really sure what he was feeling and, given how off-kilter and confused he was just _thinking_ about the possibility, it was clearly the kind of thing that could easily blow up in both of their faces. It was only natural to be curious after what he'd witnessed between Emily and Graham. With Draco's subsequent confession, it wasn't exactly a leap that Harry might start to wonder and fantasise. It didn't mean that Harry wanted any of that for real, it just meant he had a healthy imagination and a natural inquisitiveness—a trait that had got him into all kinds of trouble in the not-so-distant past. Just because he'd thought about it, it didn't mean he really wanted it, or that he needed to make those curious thoughts a reality. 

It was just a bit of mental experimentation. It was nothing at all to worry about.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry paused on the doorstep, a bag of takeaway in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Realising he'd need to free a hand to knock, he shifted the handle of the plastic takeaway bag from his left palm to around his wrist, then switched the bottle of wine from his right hand to his left. With his newly freed hand, he knocked on the door to Draco's flat, his heart racing. His hands were already damp with sweat, and he wiped the palm of his free hand on his trousers while gripping the slippery wine bottle harder with the other, praying the glass wouldn't slip loose and shatter on the ground. There had to be useful spells for exactly these kinds of situations, but bugger if Hogwarts had taught him anything so useful in everyday life as that. He'd have to ask Molly the next time he was at the Burrow—it seemed like the kind of practical spellwork she was particularly proficient at. 

After what felt like an eternity but was probably less than ten seconds, the front door swung open to reveal Draco, his hair and skin seeming to glow, backlit with the light from his flat that spilled out around him onto the darkened doorstep. It hadn't even been an hour since Harry had last seen him; Draco had stopped by his desk before he left for the weekend to confirm they were still on for their date that night. Their date at _Draco's flat_ , for takeaway and telly, which Harry was trying very hard not to read into, because they were taking things slow and not meant to be shagging on Draco's sofa, even if Harry really, really wanted to (and had worn his best pair of boxers, just in case).

Draco was still dressed in the dark trousers and crisp white button-up he'd been wearing earlier that day, but he'd ditched his shiny oxfords, leaving his feet bare but for a pair of midnight blue socks covered with fluttering white Abraxans which were most _definitely_ not regulation. Harry raised a brow, shocked and oddly pleased at the small show of rebellion. Draco's cheeks tinged pink, but he ignored Harry's pointed glance at his socks in favour of a proper greeting.

"Hi, come in." Draco opened the door wider and stepped aside to let Harry pass. He brushed a brief kiss against Harry's cheek as he entered that set them both blushing like schoolchildren. 

"You said dinner was my choice so I brought Thai," Harry said, happy his hands were full so he couldn't brush his fingers wonderingly over the hot spot on his cheek where Draco had kissed him. He held up his bag of takeaway, the mouth-watering smell of Pad See Ew and Coconut Curry wafting from the plastic containers and providing a tempting distraction. 

"And wine," he added, brandishing the bottle. "I would've brought beer but I didn't have enough hands. The lady at the shop said Riesling should go well with Thai, so hopefully it's not shit."

Draco laughed and flashed Harry a pleased grin that made his stomach wriggle—or maybe that was just the hunger. 

"I'm sure it'll be great," Draco said. "Though I've got beer on hand if it's unbearable. Are we getting plates or eating from the cartons like savages?"

Harry's lips pulled into a smile, charmed and amused entirely against his will. "Normally I'd go for the savage route, but I got us a couple of different items to split, so I suppose we could make use of proper dishes, just this once."

Draco rolled his eyes with obvious fondness as he nodded his head down the hall. 

"Come on then, the kitchen's this way." 

He took the bottle of wine from Harry as he led the way to the kitchen, frowning slightly at the label—probably turning his nose up at the cheap brand, the posh bastard—before tapping his wand against the bottle and frosting the clear glass with what Harry figured was a gentle Freezing Charm.

The moment they entered the sleek and surprisingly modern kitchen, Draco was waving his wand once more, sending various dishes, wine glasses, and cutlery flying through the air with practised ease. It surprised Harry. Not so much that Draco would have such casual mastery of his magic—he'd grown up with it after all—but that he'd have such delicate precision with household charms, which Harry knew from experience were annoyingly finicky. Harry figured the house-elves would have managed all of that for Draco growing up, and that he wouldn't have had occasion to learn them as a child—same as Harry, though obviously for very different reasons. Then again, Draco had been on his own for years, cut off from his family and from most of the wealth and privilege he'd been so accustomed to throughout his childhood. Harry supposed Draco had plenty of reasons to become proficient at household spells since the end of the war, particularly if he wanted to avoid having to wash and clean things the Muggle way. 

"So what are we watching?" Harry asked as he piled his plate with noodles and curry and fresh spring rolls. When Draco had to move out of the Manor after the war, he couldn't find anybody in the wizarding districts that would rent or sell to him. It meant that, for the first time in his life, he was forced to live in an entirely Muggle dwelling. Harry knew it had been an adjustment for him to live in a building without any of its own magic, but it also meant there was no atmospheric magic to interfere with Muggle appliances, and Draco had quickly become obsessed with his television. Not having grown up watching it, his tastes were quite… eclectic, to say the least.

"I don't have anything in particular picked out to watch. I figured we could see if any of the programmes on the telly looked interesting."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, works for me."

They made their way to Draco's living room, sitting down together on the sofa close enough that Harry was painfully aware of every move Draco made, though not quite close enough to touch. Draco turned on the telly and flicked through the channels, finally settling on some kind of baking competition that made Harry's mouth water despite the fact that he was currently stuffing his face with food. They both relaxed, eating and drinking wine and chatting about their week as Muggles panicked about deflating soufflés. It was nice, comfortable, almost like hanging out with any of Harry's other mates, besides the persistent desire to reach out and run his fingers through Draco's hair. That, and the flashes of the various fantasies Harry had been having over the past week, ever since that fateful interview, that kept popping into Harry's head and making his heart race. 

He tried not to think about it—had been trying not to think about it pretty much every second of every day of the past week, in fact—but then Draco's eyes would flash or he'd make a decisive gesture with his hands and the fantasies would pop right back to the forefront of Harry's mind. He wasn't quite sure how to act around Draco, and was half-terrified Draco would realise exactly what Harry was thinking and run screaming for the hills. Or, maybe he _wouldn't_ run. Maybe he'd want to actually follow _through_ on some of the scenarios that had been dominating Harry's thoughts. 

Harry wasn't sure which possibility was worse.

Throughout their meal, Harry was a jumbled, distracted mess. Such a mess, in fact, that it took him until they'd finished eating to realise he wasn't the only one who was preoccupied. The fact that Draco hadn't called Harry out on his distraction should have been Harry's first clue, really. Now that they didn't have the food to divert them, it was clear that there was something weighing on Draco's mind—he barely seemed to notice the unbelievable-looking biscuits currently being showcased on the baking programme. He shifted on the sofa cushions, and his eyes darted to a paper bag that appeared to have been hastily stowed beneath the coffee table. Harry might've suspected condoms and lube, except Draco was a pure-blood wizard and probably had no clue what condoms even were. Besides, the bag was far too long and flat for that, much to Harry's disappointment.

"Okay, what's going on?" Harry finally demanded when Draco shifted for the thousandth time. He was grateful to have something to focus on other than uncomfortable desires he had no interest in pursuing. Really. "And what's in the bag?"

Draco winced almost imperceptibly before seeming to come to a decision. His body language changed, his shoulders straightening as a look of calm and quiet authority settled over his face. It was uncanny, and strangely attractive. Harry's heart skipped a beat as Draco focused his steady gaze on Harry while flicking his wrist towards the bag, sending it thwacking into his palm.

"Now that we've finished eating, I thought we could move on to another activity while we watched the television."

Harry's eyebrows rose. Maybe it _was_ lube and condoms.

Draco's lips ticked up into an amused smile. "Not like that. But I thought this might help with our decision to _take things slow_ and provide a different kind of stress relief."

A whisper of those earlier nerves stole back across Draco's expression as he reached into the bag. Harry steeled himself, Draco's anxiety setting him on edge. Draco placed the items on the table as he withdrew them: two large, slim books, one decorated with a bright and intricate geometric design that swirled and glimmered, and one with cartoon renderings of magical creatures; and a box of what appeared to be coloured pencils and crayons. Harry's brow furrowed.

"Are those… colouring books?"

Draco cleared his throat, his expression eager and sheepish. "Yes." He gestured towards the classier book with the geometric pattern. "That one's an adult colouring book. Apparently they're all the rage these days. I saw it at Flourish & Blotts earlier this week, and I thought you might enjoy it. It's supposed to be a good way to… de-stress."

Harry's cheeks grew red-hot as his gaze flickered between Draco and the colouring book. He wasn't an idiot, and based on Draco's nerves and the keen way he was watching Harry's reactions, this was… maybe not a test, exactly, but certainly not as innocent as Draco was making it sound. Something had given Harry away, had made Draco think that what they'd witnessed between Emily and Graham was something Harry could be interested in. He hadn't realised his absorption and curiosity had been so obvious, though clearly it hadn't been so obvious as to make Draco certain Harry would react positively to a more frank discussion. In classic Slytherin fashion, Draco had opted for the more subtle approach, offering out the bait and leaving the Quaffle in Harry's hands. 

Harry took a deep breath, calming the anger and instinctive desire to lash out that was usually his go-to when mortified. It was awkward feeling so vulnerable, particularly in front of Draco, a person who, historically, had not been someone Harry could have ever trusted with something so intimate. But Draco wasn't laughing at him, wasn't looking for ways to shame or hurt him. In fact, there was something equally exposed in Draco's anxious gaze and bitten bottom lip as he waited for Harry's reaction. Yes, this was new and strange and a little uncomfortable, but Harry had been filled with these confusing, yearning thoughts all week now, unsure what he wanted or how to go about getting it. And here Draco was, offering him an easy way to test things out. There didn't have to be anything more to it if Harry didn't want there to be. 

Harry smiled shyly, overcome with a sudden surge of gratefulness. Not only had Draco organised a scenario in which Harry could experiment relatively consequence-free, but Harry hadn't failed to notice that one of the colouring books was very clearly meant for children. The choice really was entirely up to Harry; Draco would take his cues from whichever book Harry reached for.

Draco was still waiting for an answer, growing visibly more agitated by the second. "You don't have to, if you're not interested," he finally said, his voice strained. "I didn't mean—" 

"No," Harry said, cutting him off. "That sounds, erm, really nice."

"Oh," Draco replied, his expression relieved. "All right then." He paused before continuing, his words faux casual. "Which book would you like?"

Harry knew he was blushing as he slid off the sofa and onto the floor, tucking his feet up under the coffee table as he reached for the children's colouring book. "I thought I'd take this one," he said, modulating his tone into something equally carefree.

Draco let out a rumbling growl of approval that made Harry's entire body grow warm with pleasure. Draco's fingers wrapped briefly around the nape of Harry's neck and gave a comforting squeeze, and the lingering tension Harry had been carrying melted away. He was safe here. There was nothing to worry about. 

Reaching for the crayons, Harry opened up the book to the first page—the outline of a phoenix—and began to colour.

* * *

Harry blinked, feeling as if he was coming out of a daze, his entire being relaxed to the point of sleepiness. His mind was hazy, but every one of his blurry thoughts was focused on the soothing motions of Draco's fingers carding through his hair. It felt so nice, so good, and all Harry wanted to do was nuzzle into Draco's hand so he did, his heart leaping with joy at the distinct sound of pleasure that escaped Draco's lips.

"Are you done colouring, Harry?" he asked softly. "Are you ready to come up?"

Harry's face scrunched. Come up? _Oh_ , Draco must be asking if he wanted to come up onto the sofa. Harry smiled. He liked being on the floor, where it was easier to reach the table and colour, but being curled up next to Draco on the sofa sounded even better.

He nodded, scrambling up onto the cushions and pressing himself against Draco's side. Draco looked momentarily startled but before Harry could worry that he'd done something wrong, Draco wrapped an arm around him, his gaze softer and warmer than Harry's favourite blanket as he looked Harry over.

"Oh, Harry," Draco breathed, so quietly that Harry almost couldn't hear him. He looked at Harry for another long moment, the intensity of his gaze making Harry flush and squirm before Draco withdrew his wand. He Conjured up a glass and filled it with a muttered _Aguamenti_ before pressing it into Harry's hands.

"Here," Draco said. "Why don't you drink some of this? It'll make you feel better."

Harry obeyed without question, suddenly realising as Draco spoke how incredibly thirsty he was. He took a massive gulp before Draco chided him to take smaller sips. Something about the gentle yet commanding tone of Draco's voice was irresistible, and Harry followed his instruction, taking tiny drinks until the glass was entirely drained. As he sipped, clarity slowly began to return to him, a veil slipping from his mind that he hadn't even fully known was there. 

He looked down at the coffee table and realised he'd somehow made it through several pages of the colouring book. It was open now to a picture of an Erumpent, which he'd scribbled a shocking purple with a lack of precision that made his cheeks grow warm. A spike of shame went through him as he realised how thoroughly he'd lost track of everything—time, his surroundings, and, apparently, even his ability to colour within the lines. It had been so easy to turn off his brain for a little while and let Draco take care of everything.

Oh god, _Draco_.

What would he think? Draco might have been the one to suggest the colouring in the first place, and he clearly had more experience with this kind of thing than Harry did, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be weirded out with actually seeing Harry get so into it. Merlin, they had only _just_ been starting to get somewhere, to see if maybe they could make their relationship work, and then Harry had to go and ruin it all. Even if Draco was understanding of Harry's… inclinations, there was no way he'd be able to see Harry as a potential sexual and romantic partner after this. Not after Harry had just spent who-knew-how-long acting like a bloody _child_.

Mortification made Harry's skin heat and his hands shake as he shrugged out from Draco's embrace and Banished the glass with a burst of wandless magic. He stood, rather abruptly, and flashed Draco a smile that felt tight and uncomfortable as it stretched across his lips.

"Right, well, it's getting late, yeah? I should probably be heading out." He began to walk at a very quick pace that was definitely _not_ a run towards the door. "Thanks for having me over. It was fun. I guess I'll see you at work Monday." Draco got up and Harry waved him off, his heart racing with something not unlike panic. "No, no, don't get up! I can see myself out. Totally—" 

"Harry." It was just one word, but it was said in that same commanding voice Draco had used earlier, and before Harry had even realised it he had stopped, his hand stilled where it had been reaching for his robes.

He heard Draco coming up behind him, his steps slow and measured, as if he was afraid to spook Harry like some frightened rabbit. Draco reached for Harry's trembling hand, taking hold of it in a firm grip as he turned Harry around to face him.

"It's all right if you want to leave," he said evenly. "But before you go, we need to discuss what just happened."

"Oh, no, I don't think—"

Draco's expression grew firm, though it was not unkind. "It's non-negotiable, Harry. It's obvious that you're out of sorts. That can happen after a scene, and it's something I should have prepared you for. I didn't"—he ran a hand over his face, looking tired and a bit guilty—"I just wanted to test the waters. I didn't expect you to become so affected, but I should have, and that's my fault for not properly preparing you."

"It's not your fault," Harry protested. Draco shouldn't have to bear the blame for Harry being such a freak. "I'm the one who can't even handle a stupid colouring book without acting like I'm five." His stomach squirmed at the admission, the hot flush of shame causing him to avert his eyes. It had just felt so _nice_. He didn't think he'd ever felt so carefree, not even as an _actual_ five-year-old. The Dursleys certainly hadn't stocked his cupboard under the stairs with any colouring books.

"Harry," Draco said, and for some reason the tenderness of his tone made Harry want to cry. "Look at me. Please?"

Harry did, reluctantly, immediately losing himself in the grey depths.

"I'd like to tell you something. Are you listening?"

Harry nodded.

"There was _nothing_ wrong or bad about what happened earlier." Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Draco quelled him with a severe look. " _Nothing. Wrong_. You're not the first person to find peace in a bit of age regression, and what you, or anybody else, does in private is of no concern to anybody else as long as it isn't hurting someone."

"Yeah, but it's of concern to _you_!" Harry blurted out, unable to keep quiet. "It's not like I was by myself, Draco. You were there, too."

"Yes, I was," Draco said calmly. "Did you forget that I was the one who bought the colouring books? That I stayed with you the whole time while you played?"

"Of course not," Harry said miserably. That was part of the problem. "I get it, you're an understanding bloke when it comes to kink—or whatever the hell that just was. But in case _you've_ forgotten, tonight was supposed to be a date. Last I checked, playing with crayons and watching somebody act like a kid is the kind of thing I do with my godchildren, not with a boyfriend. "

Draco looked surprised and pleased. "You want to be my boyfriend?"

Harry glared at him, even as the look on Draco's face made hope flicker inside his chest. 

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know." Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. "We're still figuring it out, aren't we? But I do know I want somebody who sees me as a partner, not a child they have to take care of."

"Okay…" Draco said slowly, his brow furrowed. "I think we probably need to have another, more specific, conversation about kink and the things we each want, and what it would mean for our relationship, to clear up some assumptions and misconceptions. I told you before, Harry: I don't need kink to be happy, though it is certainly a preference. How that manifests, however, is entirely up to us. It seems like perhaps there's something you could get from it, and I really like the thought of being the one who's able to give that to you. But that kind of dynamic—even if it's something we decide to experiment with, which we don't have to—it doesn't have to be all the time, and it absolutely doesn't detract from how I see you as a man and potential partner. You're not a child, Harry Potter, and I certainly don't think of you as one." 

He cupped Harry's face, sliding his thumb back and forth along Harry's cheekbone as he stepped in close, pressing Harry back against his front door. 

"You don't see me as some kind of parent-figure, do you?" he asked in a low, smoky tone.

Harry shook his head, the idea patently ridiculous. Sure, he'd found Draco's presence comforting and commanding—safe, even—while he'd been "playing" but the feelings he had for Draco right now were very much not of the kind Harry had felt for the parental figures in his life.

"Good," Draco said with satisfaction, and then he leaned in and kissed Harry.

They hadn't snogged since the end of their first date, when they shared that goodnight kiss that had made Harry's toes curl inside his boots. Harry had had plenty of time in the intervening week to dream about the next one, and somehow this kiss was even better, slow and thorough, gradually building heat until Harry thought he would combust on the spot. He tangled a hand in Draco's hair, angling him closer while his other hand slid down Draco's back to grab hold of his perfect arse. He tugged until Draco's body was flush against his, shuddering as he felt the hard evidence of Draco's arousal nudged up against his own hardening dick. They'd said they were going to take things slow, and Harry was pretty sure this didn't qualify, but right that moment Harry didn't care. He wanted this, wanted _Draco_ , and it seemed like Draco was on the exact same page.

Draco swiveled his hips, grinding against Harry and causing them both to moan at the pleasurable friction. It felt so good, and normally Harry wouldn't have any problem at all frotting together until they both came in their pants like teenagers. But Harry had had enough of acting younger than his years for the night, so he wedged a hand between them and began working open Draco's flies.

It didn't take long before Draco was doing the same to him, undoing Harry's jeans and fishing out Harry's dick. He took hold of Harry with a firm, confident grip that made Harry shiver and fumble as he pawed at Draco's trousers, pleasure making him clumsy. But he was determined not to be shown up, so he grit his teeth against the desire to melt back against the door and let Draco have his way with him, and plunged his hand into Draco's pants, grabbing hold of Draco's hot, hard length. He felt amazing, so thick and silky-smooth, and Harry desperately wanted to get a good look at him, to see if he was as big as he felt. But Harry wasn't willing to give up Draco's lips or the feeling of his body smashed up against Harry's own, so he'd have to save a proper look for another time.

Draco's grip tightened and he began to wank Harry faster, twisting his wrist on every upstroke in a way that made Harry gasp into Draco's mouth. Draco hummed with obvious pleasure, humping into Harry's fist as he kissed Harry hard and deep.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Draco groaned against Harry's lips. "Are you close? Because I am, _fuck_ , I'm so damn close."

"Yeah," Harry breathed, realising with a shock that he _was_ close, that while he'd been busy focusing on bringing Draco off, Draco had managed to take him right up to the brink. "Gonna come. Gonna come all over you. Want you to do it with me."

Draco let out a full-body shudder at Harry's words and then he was coming, spilling warmth across Harry's fingertips. The sight and feel and _smell_ of him coming was enough to push Harry over the edge himself, and he bit down on Draco's lips as his climax hit.

"So," Draco said, after they'd had a chance to catch their breath. "That was… unexpected."

Harry laughed, grabbing his wand with his clean hand and casting a gentle _Scourgify_ over them both. "Not exactly taking it slow, no."

Draco flashed him a somewhat sheepish smile. "I think that might have been an unrealistic aspiration, given our history."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Harry agreed as Draco stepped back and began tucking himself away. Harry missed his warmth immediately, but realised he couldn't stand in Draco's foyer with his dick out forever, so he buttoned up his jeans and grabbed his cloak. "So, what next?"

Draco looked at him thoughtfully. "Assuming that wasn't some kind of goodbye wank and you're still interested in pursuing a relationship…" He waited for Harry to nod his agreement, a relieved smile crossing Draco's face when he did so. "Great. Well in that case, as I said before, I think we need to have a conversation about the whole"—he waved his hand towards his living room—"thing, but that can wait for another day. I think you need some time to process it first, and to really think about what you want."

Harry nodded slowly, unable to prevent the hot blush from staining his cheeks. He still felt all awkward and squirmy and uncomfortable if he let himself think too long on what he had already labelled _the colouring book incident_ , partially because he couldn't help but remember how good it had felt, how happy and relaxed he'd been doodling at Draco's feet. As much as he wanted to instinctively deny the whole episode as an aberration never to be repeated, there was a part of him that cried out at the thought of never getting to experience that freedom again. Draco was right. He needed time to think. 

"Okay," Harry replied softly. "We'll talk. After we've _both_ had some time to think things over. This isn't just about me, Draco. It can't be." The thought of Draco going along with it just for Harry's sake was unbearable.

"Agreed," Draco said, and his smile was warm and sincere. "Until then." He leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss across Harry's cheek as he opened his front door. "Goodnight, Harry. And sweet dreams."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was _not_ freaking out.

No, really, he wasn't. He was… processing. Just like Draco said he should. And if he spent all day Saturday _processing_ by cleaning Grimmauld Place from top to bottom until he was a sweaty, exhausted mess, well, his house _had_ been in need of a good scrub.

By Sunday morning, though, Harry knew he'd avoided the issue long enough. It was probably time to figure some shit out. Because it was looking increasingly like Harry might have a bit of a _thing_ , a kink, even, one that Draco was apparently willing to help him explore. But Harry wasn't exactly sure what his thing/kink/preference/ _whatever_ was really called, or what might be on offer, or what he even fully wanted. Draco might have had more experience in the world of BDSM, but he'd also admitted that this particular kink was outside his normal purview. They were due for a lengthy conversation, and Harry knew it would be soon, but he didn't want to go into it totally clueless. Harry could rely on Draco to guide him to some extent, but it would be a good idea to look into it himself as well.

Which meant he needed to do some research.

Normally, his first step when he had something to research was to enlist Hermione's help, but that was definitely not happening this time around. Just the thought of having to explain to Hermione what he was looking up and why made his cheeks flame and his stomach twist. It was bad enough Draco knew about Harry's strange desires; he absolutely didn't need anybody else finding out, especially not one of his best mates. Besides, this wasn't exactly the kind of research that he needed Hermione for anyway. Harry very much doubted the musty old tomes in the Grimmauld Place library had detailed information on full-grown wizards who liked pretending they were little kids.

No, if he wanted books on that kind of thing, he'd need to go somewhere a bit more modern. He knew Flourish & Blotts had a sexual wellness section—Luna had spent a very long pub night detailing the many helpful books she'd found there to spice things up in the bedroom with Rolf. Harry wasn't sure if the shop stocked books on his particular kink, but if they didn't have them on hand he could probably special order something. There was also the recent sex shop expansion of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, which was much more likely to actually have what he was looking for in stock. Both were decent enough options for the average wizard, but for Harry they were really only one step up from involving Hermione. Given his unfortunate level of fame, word of his perversions would no doubt show up tomorrow on the front page of the _Prophet_ , and then he'd need to move to Antarctica where there would be plenty of snow to cool his permanently flushed face. No, if he wanted books on the subject, he'd definitely need to get them in Muggle London.

Then again, Harry wasn't all that sure that he wanted kinky books lying around his house, just begging to be discovered by any of the various friends that seemed to let themselves into his house as they pleased. Leaving hard evidence like that around was too risky, just asking to be caught, really. If it wasn't poor Ron stumbling upon something he couldn't unsee, it'd be Kreacher finding them in one of his paltry attempts at cleaning, and Harry very much didn't want to hear any opinions Kreacher might have on the subject.

Which left one option: the internet. 

Grimmauld Place, being a thoroughly wizarding house, didn't have access to the internet, and the only place he could think of with free access to both computers and the internet were public libraries. It hardly seemed like the done thing, to use the library computer for kinky research purposes, but Harry was getting desperate. He could always cast a (very subtle) Privacy Charm to ensure he wasn't caught and thrown out for being some kind of pervert.

Committed to his course, Harry dragged himself out of bed and hurriedly got dressed. He stopped at a café down the street for a flat white and a croissant, and was finished with both by the time he arrived at Finsbury Library. He settled in at one of the free public computers, cast a gentle Privacy Charm to prevent any nosy Nellies from getting an eyeful, and got to researching.

He emerged from the library several hours later, overwhelmed and slightly dazed. There'd been _so much_ information, and it had quickly become clear that the world of BDSM and kink was even more nuanced and vast than Harry had anticipated. The deluge of possibilities had been a lot to take in, and in some ways he felt even more lost than before. It seemed so messy and complicated and confusing, and a part of him wanted to throw in the towel right then and there. But there was another part, one that had perked up with interest and timid desire as he read through the online diary from the perspective of a "little". 

There'd been something in the little's posts that had resonated: a plucked chord deep inside his chest. It had sent him down a rabbit hole of related blogs and _inspirational_ photos. They'd been lovely, filling him with a hungry yearning, but he couldn't help but notice that they all seemed to share a certain similar aesthetic, one that didn't quite hit the right note for Harry. All the boys were slender and doe-eyed; all their Daddies were buffer and bigger in stature and generally quite noticeably older. It made sense; the physical appearance of the Daddies and their boys was such a fitting representation of the dynamic. When Harry looked at the photos of the various couples together, he could _see_ it.

But that wasn't what Harry wanted.

Aesthetically, he understood the appeal, but Harry wasn't generally attracted to older men, and he'd never been all that keen on blokes who were massively bigger than him, either. When he went for men, it was for somebody like Draco—long and lean, with interesting features—and he'd never been drawn to anyone more than a few years older than himself. Technically, Draco _was_ older than him, even if it was by less than two months. That was something, Harry supposed, even if it didn't quite settle the discord in his chest. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that this was something he wanted. Harry had finally had a chance to do some research, to maybe realise that he wasn't the only one who wanted this, that he wasn't so alone. Instead, he'd discovered that even in this area he was a freak. He didn't look like a little should look, and he didn't want the right kind of caretaker. The whole thing had left him confused and conflicted, feeling drawn to the dynamic but certain he was wanting it in all the wrong ways.

It was nearly one o'clock in the afternoon by the time Harry got back to Grimmauld Place, his stomach growling and head spinning. He was just throwing together a ham sandwich when an owl swooped through the open window, dropping an expensive-looking envelope onto the table, Harry's name written on the outside in a familiar script.

Harry's stomach flipped as he tossed the waiting owl a treat and reached for the letter. He opened it with shaking hands, steeling his spine as he prepared himself for whatever was inside.

The letter was short. Draco suggested they meet that night to talk things over. He made it clear that it was fine if Harry thought it was too soon, but he believed it might be helpful if they had their discussion before the coming week, when they'd inevitably see one another at work. Harry fought off the instinctive urge to bury his head in the sand, acknowledging that Draco was probably right. He didn't need the distraction of their looming talk hanging over him while he was tracking down dangerous criminals and trying to fill out paperwork. Better to get it out of the way first. 

Before he could second-guess himself, he grabbed a partially bent quill from his junk drawer and penned a reply, inviting Draco over to Grimmauld Place for dinner that night. Harry enjoyed cooking and thought making a meal might help calm some of his nerves. He'd been planning a bacon and asparagus risotto—something nice and labour-intensive to occupy his mind—and he had plenty of ingredients for two.

He sent the owl on with his reply, polishing off the rest of his sandwich before checking his watch. Harry still had a good four hours before he needed to shower and change and start on dinner. Already his brain felt full to bursting with everything he'd learned that day, and all he wanted at that moment was to shut off his mind, if only for a while.

With a heavy sigh, he trudged up the stairs towards the attic. It looked like Grimmauld Place was getting another scrub down.

* * *

"Thank you for the meal, Harry, it was wonderful," Draco said after finishing his last bite of risotto. He leaned back in his chair, a half-full glass of white wine dangling from his fingertips. It was clear the compliment was sincerely meant. Harry couldn't help but perk up with pleasure knowing that Draco had enjoyed the food Harry had made. The risotto _had_ turned out perfectly, well worth the lingering ache in his arm from all that stirring. He was sure Molly could have told him a spell to keep the wooden spoon moving, but there was something about doing it himself that made it taste all the better. Besides, he enjoyed the ritual of doing it by hand.

"I'm glad you liked it," Harry said. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll go take care of the dishes. I didn't make anything for pudding, but I've got a pint of chocolate ice cream if you want—"

"Harry," Draco said, his voice kind but firm. "Let's stop stalling. Here, I'll even help wash up." He waved his wand towards the table, sending the dishes and cutlery soaring towards the sink. He settled them gently into the basin before filling it with soapy water. "There, we can have a chat while those soak."

Harry sighed and nodded, his stomach churning with anxiety as he gestured towards the living room with the air of a man marching to his death. It wasn't doing him any good to keep trying to put things off, though, and he was already about as ready as he could get.

They settled down, Harry on the sofa and Draco on the adjacent loveseat. He looked just as gorgeously put together as he always did, and as desperately as Harry wanted to touch, he figured it was smart to keep their distance. It would be all too easy to get distracted, and they really did need to talk.

"So," Draco began after a tense moment of silence. "Friday night. How are you feeling about it now that you've had a few days to process everything?"

Harry's stupid cheeks grew warm of their own volition, and he forced himself not to wriggle in his seat. "Yeah, uh." He coughed, his cheeks growing brighter as he averted his gaze. "I liked it."

"Okay, good, that's good," Draco said, clearly doing his best to sound encouraging and soothing, though Harry could hear the undercurrent of relief. "Liked it as in, it was fun to try as a one-off? Or liked it as in, you'd enjoy exploring that dynamic further?"

Harry chewed on his bottom lip before forcing himself to look at Draco and reply: "The second one."

Draco grinned at him, his proud expression making heat bloom in Harry's gut. 

"We can do that. We can _definitely_ do that." Draco took another sip of his wine, settling himself more comfortably on the sofa. Harry hadn't realised how tense Draco had been before now, and it made some of Harry's own tension ease knowing he wasn't the only one who was nervous and unsure. "As I've said before, I've only dabbled in this particular subsection of kink. But I've been doing some more research and spoke to a friend of mine who's more experienced with the Daddy/little dynamic."

"Oh," Harry said, oddly pleased that Draco had been looking into things as well. "I did some research, too. There were definitely some things that didn't appeal to me, but some of it…" He gave Draco a sheepish smile. "I think maybe I'd like to try it. With you."

Draco's cheeks flushed a pale pink with pleasure, and all Harry wanted to do was reach out and muss him up further. "That makes me very happy to hear. It's important that we're on the same page and imperative that we trust one another or it won't work. As I've mentioned, the world of kink is vast. Even within ageplay there is a broad spectrum of activities which may or may not appeal."

"Yeah, I got that from my research. It was a little overwhelming," Harry admitted. "It helped confirm that the colouring thing wasn't an isolated incident, but…" Harry ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I couldn't help but notice that we don't… well, we don't really fit the image of any of the couples I saw."

"Ah, yes, I was wondering if that might come up." Draco seemed to be weighing his words carefully. "There's a lot of helpful information available that can be useful in figuring out what turns you on, but you've also got to remember that every person has their own unique perspective. The wonderful thing about kink is that, much like a relationship, it's entirely up to the people involved to define what it means for them. There's no one right way to do it, though of course there are best practices and guidelines to follow." He gave Harry a somewhat wry smile. "Just because salt-and-pepper Daddies with their young twinks or little girls in pigtails may be the poster children for ageplay doesn't mean that they're the only ones who play; much like everything else in life, you'll often find the reality of kink to be a bit different from the way it's portrayed in the media or on specifically curated websites. I know it'll be difficult, but I'd like you to try not to think about anybody else and their possible judgments, or what you think you should want or do. Right now, this is about me and you and whatever we want to make this. Nobody else."

"Okay," Harry said. He still felt a little kernel of anxiety about doing it all wrong, but he tried to ignore it and focus on Draco. His words made sense, but it definitely sounded easier said than done. "I can try."

"That's all I ask, Harry," Draco said as he leaned back against the loveseat and crossed one leg over the other. "That, and that you keep talking to me. As long as we keep a healthy line of communication, we can work anything out."

That _also_ sounded easier said than done. Harry hadn't ever been that great about talking about his feelings or stuff that was super personal. Apparently he needed to learn, quickly.

"I'm not really sure where to start."

Draco nodded. "That's absolutely normal. I've been involved in the community for years and I never would have got far if somebody hadn't taken me under their wing and showed me the ropes"—he smirked—"in my case, quite literally. I know it's overwhelming, so if you have any questions, please ask me. If I don't know the answer, I have other resources. I want to make sure this is good for you, Harry, whatever comes from it. Your comfort is paramount."

Harry nodded, not really sure how to respond. All this focus on _him_ made Harry feel awkward and oddly exposed. Draco had emphasised that there was nothing shameful or bad about Harry's desires, but he couldn't help the small voice inside him that insisted this was, if not outright wrong, then still weird and freakish. But his trust in Draco and his desire to rediscover the peace he'd felt on Friday was great enough to override that voice. For now.

"So what's next?"

Draco stared at him. It was as if he saw something in Harry's expression that he wanted to dig into, but he appeared to let it go, for now. He relaxed back, giving Harry an encouraging smile as he pulled several folded sheets of parchment from his jacket pocket.

"Next, I'd like you to take a look at these." Harry reached for them and Draco laughed, holding them out of reach. "Not right now. I want you to look them over by yourself."

"What are they?"

"They're lists of potential kinks. I have the one I've used in the past with partners, with a list of kinks more generally associated with the BDSM community. The second list is a little more specialised to the Daddy/little dynamic we've discussed. I'd like you to go through them both and indicate whether you're interested, not interested, or unsure. Take your time going through it, really think about your responses. There's no right or wrong answer, but it'll hopefully help you narrow down what you think you might like and provide me with an idea of how I can give it to you. Once you've finished filling them out you can owl them to me and, if you'd like, I can start planning an official scene."

Harry swallowed, his gaze locked on the folded parchments Draco had set on the coffee table.

"Does that sound all right to you, Harry?" Draco asked. "We could go over the lists together if you'd prefer, but I thought you'd be more comfortable without me here. That way, there's no extra pressure."

Harry's face burned just thinking of what might be on those lists, and the thought of reading them with Draco right there _watching him_ sounded mortifying. He shook his head.

"No, I can do it on my own."

"Good, that's good. If… if you'd rather go through your answers together so we can talk things over before I plan out a scene, we can do that, too. I'm not trying to rush you, I just thought you'd want to get started sooner rather than later."

Harry flashed Draco a somewhat shaky smile. "You're right. Better to jump in quickly before I lose my nerve."

Draco looked somewhat relieved by Harry's confirmation. 

"All right then, that's settled." His expression took on a more predatory gleam, his eyes smouldering with sudden heat. "That frees us up for our final activity of the evening."

Harry swallowed loudly. "Final activity?"

Draco nodded, draining the last of his wine before standing and making his way over to Harry, standing between his spread knees. 

"I'm afraid I shouldn't stay much longer—it _is_ a work night after all—but you've been so good and brave this evening and I think you deserve a reward."

"I do?" Harry asked, tilting his head up to look into Draco's hypnotising eyes. 

Draco nodded before leaning down and giving Harry a deep, thorough kiss. He slid his fingers through Harry's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as his tongue slid into Harry's mouth. It was a brilliant kiss and Harry lost himself in it, so he was surprised when Draco finally pulled away and Harry noticed that, at some point during the kiss, Draco had sunk to his knees.

Draco's hands slid along the insides of Harry's thighs and Harry gasped, his cock twitching as Draco's palms drew nearer. Draco leaned forward, his hot breath ghosted over Harry's flies as he met Harry's gaze, and Harry couldn't help but whimper when Draco smirked up at him.

"Would you like me to suck you off, Harry? Want me to put my mouth on you?"

"Yes," Harry said, too turned on to be embarrassed by his eagerness. " _Please_."

"I do _so_ love you asking nicely," Draco said with a grin as he began undoing Harry's flies. He gave a nudge and Harry lifted his arse up off the cushion so Draco could pull down his pants and trousers, leaving Harry sitting bare-arsed on the sofa with Draco between his spread legs. Harry's cock was fully hard, bobbing towards Draco's face as precome began to bead along the head, and Draco extended his tongue, lapping it up and sending pleasure shooting up Harry's spine. Harry's hands twitched, overcome with the desire to touch, and Draco gave him a firm stare.

"No touching. Keep your hands on your knees or I'll stop." Something hot slithered through Harry's body at Draco's command, at how clearly Draco managed to control the situation even though he was the one on his knees. He wanted to obey Draco, wanted to make him happy, so he slid his hands to his kneecaps, holding on for dear life as Draco swallowed him down.

_Fuck_ , Draco was good at giving head, taking all of Harry's not-inconsiderable-length down in one easy motion. Harry gasped, overcome with the white-hot pleasure of Draco's mouth sliding up and down his shaft, so tight and slick. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen anything so hot as Draco's lips spread wide around his dick while he ruthlessly reduced Harry to a whining, desperate mess. All too soon Harry felt his orgasm well up within him, brought forth fast and wild by Draco's skilled sucking. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd had such an enthusiastic blowjob, and the fact that it was _Draco_ giving it to him only made it all that hotter. 

"Oh, oh _fuck_ , Draco. I'm getting close, I'm gonna—"

Draco kept right on sucking, apparently unconcerned about Harry coming down his throat. If anything, he seemed to redouble his efforts, moving faster and sucking harder until Harry's toes curled and his nails dug into his knees as he came down Draco's throat with a shuddering cry. Draco's eyes glowed up at him, molton-hot as he swallowed, licking Harry clean as he slowly pulled off.

Harry blinked down at him, loose-limbed and dazed in the wake of his powerful orgasm. His thoughts were as slow as treacle as he attempted to process the hotness that was Draco licking Harry's come off his lips.

"That was lovely," Draco said with a pleased sigh. He flashed Harry a gratified grin. "You were perfect." He settled his hands on top of Harry's, which were still atop his knees. "You follow directions so well."

Harry's entire body grew warm from the praise, but he was too relaxed and content to feel embarrassed or self-conscious about the implications of Draco's statement. Harry had already admitted to being interested in things a lot more damning than being bossed around in bed.

"What about you?" Harry finally managed, his gaze catching on the bulge in Draco's trousers. His mouth watered at the thought of getting a good look at Draco's cock, at putting his mouth on him and returning the favour.

But Draco shook his head almost regretfully as he stood. 

"As lovely as that would no doubt be, this was just for you. It really is getting late, and I've got an early start tomorrow."

Harry frowned. He wanted to protest and beg Draco to stay longer, insist that Draco let Harry suck his dick. But a glance at the clock told Harry it was already ten, and Harry didn't want to be the reason Draco wasn't at his best tomorrow. Their jobs were too dangerous not to take them seriously. Besides, Draco had given him a lot to think about, and there would hopefully be plenty more chances for Harry to suck Draco off in the future.

"All right, then. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Draco nodded and gave Harry a gentle smile before leaning forward to brush a soft kiss against Harry's lips.

"Yes, Harry, I'll see you tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry didn't look at the list until after work the next day.

It had taken all of his strength not to take a peek the moment Draco had left the night before, but he knew once he started he wouldn't be able to stop, and he really had needed to get some sleep. He had a feeling that _'I stayed up all night thinking about kinky sex things'_ wouldn't fly with Robards as a valid excuse for showing up late to work. Of course, _not_ looking at the lists meant he stayed up half the night anyway, tossing and turning in bed _wondering_. He ended up snoozing his Alarm Charm four times and was almost late to work anyway, totally ruining his plan to get up early and look over the lists over with a cup of coffee and a clear head.

He'd been worried that thoughts of what might be on those tantalising lists would consume his day, but he had a literal roomful of invoices to comb through for his and Sue Li's latest case which required close reading; it was the first time he'd ever been grateful for such a mind-numbing task. By the end of the day, Harry didn't even want so much as to _look_ at another piece of parchment ever again, so he focused on making dinner when he got home, though those damned lists still called to him like a Siren's song as he threw together his spaghetti carbonara.

He Summoned them as soon as he sat down to eat; the curiosity was killing him.

### BDSM Checklist

 _Indicate the following for each of the below activities:_  
**Hard:** Hard Limit (do not desire)  
**Soft:** Soft Limit (discussion needed)  
**Curious:** Possibility (negotiation prior)  
**Enjoy:** Fair Game  
**Fav:** Highly Desirable

**Activity** | **Potential**  
---|---  
Age Play |  _See other sheet for more details._  
Anal Play | _________________________________  
Anal Sex (penetration) | _________________________________  
Asphyxiation | _________________________________  
Biting (being bitten) | _________________________________  
Biting (giving bites) | _________________________________  
Blindfolds | _________________________________  
Bondage – light | _________________________________  
Bondage – heavy | _________________________________  
Breath Control – choking | _________________________________  
Chastity | _________________________________  
Collars | _________________________________  
  
Harry's heart began to race and he tore his gaze away, not even finishing the Cs. He'd known there was a lot on offer, but it was overwhelming to be confronted with it all at once. Had Draco already curated this particular list to represent the things he was personally interested in? Was Draco really into—Harry scanned the list and gulped— _golden showers_? Because Harry was pretty sure that was a no for him, both giving and receiving. In fact, Harry Summoned a quill and marked down _Hard_ next to both of those activities, hoping he wouldn't be somehow disappointing Draco. It was a slightly crushing thought, but Draco had told him to be thorough and honest, and Harry took him at his word. It wouldn't do either of them any good if Harry was anything other than entirely truthful, as difficult as that was already shaping up to be.

Quill in hand, he went back to the beginning of the list and began to slowly make his way down, pausing at each activity and really trying to picture it before making his decision and writing his preference. Heat began to ebb and flow within him as he imagined all kinds of kinky, sexy scenarios—interspersed with less enjoyable possibilities—and he learned a whole lot more about himself and his desires than he'd been expecting. Like that the idea of wearing a collar was a shockingly hot image, and that he apparently wasn't entirely opposed to a bit of edgeplay. There were quite a lot of hard limits—anything involving intense pain or another person were immediately out—which once again made Harry worry that he was being too particular, that there wouldn't be enough activities left for Draco to enjoy. He had to remind himself that Draco had said he'd be content even if kink was off the table entirely, but it didn't stop the little niggles of worry from burrowing deep.

Harry's entire body was vibrating with arousal and anticipation (and not a small amount of anxiety) as he finished the first list and reached for the second, shorter parchment. It was one that Draco had created just for him, with the kinks and activities he thought might be most appropriate for the dynamics Harry had shown an interest in. It was the moment of truth, and Harry found himself holding his breath as he opened up the list and began to scan, his gaze catching and snagging on the various possibilities as he read through.

Did Harry see himself more as an adult baby (under two years old), a little (ages three to seven), or a middle (ages eleven to seventeen)? That one was easy enough. He didn't much see the appeal of infantilism, personally, and he wasn't sure what was so great about being a teenager either, all acne spots and crushing insecurity and helpless anger. But being little… He marked down his preference.

Was Harry interested in punishment and discipline? How did he feel about spanking? Did he want a dummy or a bottle? Did he want to wear a _nappy_?

As with the first list, Harry worked his way through, trying not to be a judgemental twat over some of the activities as he marked them down as a hard limit. Others had a much more pleasurable effect, making Harry squirm in his seat and warming his body with a mixture of arousal and shame as he wrote _Fav_ next to praise kink, _Curious_ next to spanking, and _Soft Limit_ next to sex during scenes. He knew he wanted sex with Draco, and he knew he wanted to explore the idea of ageplay and regression, but he wasn't positive that he wanted to mix them together. It hadn't felt sexual when he'd been colouring in Draco's living room before, but Harry didn't know if that was because of his headspace, or just that particular scenario. He knew plenty of people got off on the kink in a _very_ sexual way, but he couldn't help but feel there was something bad in it, something wrong, no matter what all the websites and Draco had said. It certainly didn't help his mindset that there were several roleplay activities on the list, including Parent/Child and Older Sibling/Younger Sibling. The fact that Draco had included them certainly indicated a certain open-mindedness on Draco's part, but it wasn't one Harry was sure he shared. Was that kind of play taking it too far?

Draco wouldn't have included anything on the list that was illegal or immoral, and Harry wasn't stupid; he knew that there wasn't anything wrong with roleplay between consenting adults. But the taboo against incest ran so deep that Harry's mind shied away from the possibility, resolutely ignoring the tiny flicker of curiosity, the spark of interest inside of him that had a perverse kind of attraction to the wicked and forbidden. Draco wasn't _really_ his father, couldn't be further from him in fact, so would it really be so wrong to play pretend? 

Harry sat there for a long moment after he finished with the lists, his half-eaten plate of spaghetti carbonara cold and congealing next to him. He stared at the parchments, which appeared so harmless and innocent lying there on the table; one would never even know the filthy depravity they contained within. He felt the sudden, blinding urge to set them alight with a swift _Incendio_ and get rid of the evidence of his apparent loss of sense and reason. The thought of Draco actually reading through the lists and seeing what Harry had written, knowing the wicked things Harry dreamed about… It was enough to make Harry's skin break out in a cold sweat.

But Draco wanted to know Harry's deepest held fantasies so he could work on making them a reality for Harry. He wanted to give Harry a gift, give him a chance to explore the desires he'd buried so deep he'd barely even known they were there. Harry _could_ burn up the lists. He could tell Draco he'd changed his mind, that he didn't want to pursue any of it, and Draco would let him, he wouldn't push. The whole thing would fade into memory, a mere blip on the radar, and Harry would never have to face it. 

He'd never experience that glorious freedom, either.

Before he could talk himself out of it Harry folded up the lists and stuffed them into an envelope, scrawling Draco's name on the outside. He cast just about every privacy charm he could think of on the bundle, ensuring that Draco would be the only person who could see what was inside. He whistled for Apocrypha, the brown owl of unknown origin that had shown up at Grimmauld Place a few years ago out of the blue, apparently deciding to adopt Harry as her own. He attached the envelope to her leg and told her to go straight to Draco Malfoy, and was promptly overcome with doubt the second she disappeared out of sight.

Well, it was out of his hands now, too late to turn back. He busied himself with cleaning the kitchen, and then with eating the last half a pint of chocolate ice cream straight out of the carton, pacing the lower floor of Grimmauld Place all the while. Draco had always had a way of making Harry feel off-kilter, but this was a whole other level, one Harry was entirely unprepared for. The constant roller-coaster of emotion was beginning to wear, and Harry didn't know how much more he could take before he went mad. 

A flicker of motion from outside the window overlooking the back garden caught his eye and he paused, squinting into the night. Apocrypha swooped gracefully over the neighbouring rooftops, dodging the saplings Harry had planted last spring before alighting gracefully on the windowsill with a gentle hoot. Butterflies fluttered in Harry's stomach as he caught sight of the delicate roll of parchment tied to her left leg, and he detached it carefully before digging an owl treat from one of his pockets and offering it to Apocrypha. She snapped it up with a coo and then took off once more into the night, leaving Harry alone with his missive.

The note was short and to the point, setting Harry's pulse racing and sending pure, distilled want rushing through his veins.

> _This Saturday at 3pm. My flat._
> 
> I'm looking forward to it, Harry. I hope you are, too.
> 
> -Draco

Now all he had to do was wait. 


	6. Chapter 6

Harry's heart was pounding so loud he was sure it was audible as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and called out for Draco's flat at two-fifty-nine on Saturday. Having already made a good amount of progress on the state of Grimmauld Place with all his recent anxiety-induced cleaning, he'd decided to spend the morning out in the garden, pulling up weeds and trimming the grass and various hedges. It was physical work and helped keep both his mind and body busy. So busy, in fact, that he'd lost track of time and had to scramble to grab a quick shower and change before his date with Draco. He'd worked right through lunch and debated grabbing a banana as a quick snack, but he wasn't feeling all that hungry, his stomach churning with nerves. Harry wasn't keen on possibly throwing up partially digested banana all over Draco's expensive carpet upon going through the Floo, so he figured it best if he skipped it.

Draco was waiting for him on the other side, pausing mid-stride as if he'd been pacing when Harry stumbled through the fireplace. Harry gave him a somewhat awkward smile. What was the protocol here? Should he act like this was just a regular date? Would they jump right in?

The sight of Harry floundering seemed to call to something in Draco because the signs of his nervousness dropped away. He straightened and gave Harry a warm smile before stepping in and brushing a kiss against Harry's cheek.

"Right on time," he murmured, his tone amused. "How unlike you."

Harry's cheeks grew warm. "This, err, seemed like the kind of thing I shouldn't be late to."

Draco gave him a pleased look that made Harry's stomach flutter. "Such good instincts." He gestured to the sofa. "Why don't we sit and we can have a chat before jumping into things."

Harry swallowed heavily and sat. Draco took the seat opposite, his brow furrowing as he looked at Harry.

"You look like you're about to face a Dark Lord. You know we don't have to do this if you're not ready. We could go for a walk outside instead, maybe grab a drink somewhere."

Harry shook his head quickly. "No! No, I want to… I'm just nervous."

Draco nodded, seeming somewhat relieved. "That's understandable. And that actually brings me to the first thing I wanted to discuss. I need you to choose a safe word. It should be something that's easy for you to remember, but not something that you might say accidentally in conversation."

Harry's brow furrowed as he thought about all the things he'd read through online. He understood the importance of a safeword for traditional BDSM relationships, but he didn't think it really applied to what they were doing. "Can't it just be no or stop? I'm not really interested in any kind of consent play."

"I know," Draco replied patiently, unruffled by Harry's confusion. "I went through your forms thoroughly, but I find it's best to have a safe word regardless of what activities we engage in so that it's unequivocally clear when something crosses a line and you need to end a scene. Just because we won't be playing with consent doesn't mean there aren't instances where you might tell me no without wanting the scene to end."

The look Harry had on his face must have reflected his doubt, because Draco huffed out a small, amused sound before continuing. "For example, you listed orgasm delay and denial as something you might be interested in, as well as spanking. In both of those instances I could push you far enough that you'd beg me to stop without actually meaning it. I don't plan to start out with anything quite like that for today, but while our scenes might not be physically strenuous, right now or possibly ever, we don't quite know how it'll affect you emotionally." He hesitated. "This kind of arrangement can be extremely taxing emotionally, and sometimes the smallest thing can end up pushing us past our limits in ways we never anticipated. If something gets to be too much for you to handle, I want you to use your safeword and put an immediate stop to it.

"We also don't know what kind of little you are—I doubt you'll be too bratty, but the Daddy Dom I spoke to about all of this has a boy who likes throwing tantrums. For him, it's part of the experience, as is the punishment that follows"—he flashed Harry a warning look that made his cheeks heat—"but it doesn't mean he wants the scene to end. Having a safe word makes all of that clearer."

Harry's eyes widened. It was obvious Draco had given this a lot of thought, certainly more than Harry had, even though it felt like Harry'd thought of little else the past few weeks. It was overwhelming, all the possibilities, but that was why he had Draco. Draco, who would take care of everything, who'd figure out what Harry needed and give it to him. He shivered.

"Okay, I see your point. How about… Hallows."

Draco rose a single eyebrow but nodded. "All right. Mine is Thistle."

"Yours?"

"You're not the only one that can get in over their head. This experience is just as intense and emotional for me as it is for you, just in a different way. It is important we both have the means to quickly end a scene if it gets out of hand."

Harry hadn't ever thought about a Dom needing to end a scene because of their own crossed boundaries.

"Got it, Thistle."

Draco smiled. "Excellent. To start, I want to leave sex out of our scenes, at least any of the ones that involve age regression. You said on your form that you're not quite sure if it's a sexual kind of release for you, so I want to leave that aspect off the table for the moment until you've had time to play and figure it out."

"No sex?"

Draco smouldered at him and Harry swallowed heavily as Draco clarified, "No sex while we're doing an ageplay scene. Outside of that, however…"

Harry grinned, relieved. He wasn't willing to give up sex with Draco, not when it was so bloody fantastic. Draco was right, though, to not include it in his plans for today's scene. Harry was just barely coming to terms with the idea of wanting to act like a little boy and have Draco care for him. He wasn't sure he wanted sex while he was like that. He wasn't sure he wanted to _want_ sex when he was like that. Something about it felt wrong, and no amount of telling himself otherwise seemed to diminish the shame writhing in his guts when he thought about it, so he just did his best not to.

"So," Draco said after a significant pause. "Are you ready to start?"

Harry's belly flipped but he nodded, and something seemed to change within Draco, a subtle shift in the way he carried himself that made Harry sit up and take notice.

"Good, then let's go to my spare bedroom, I've got a gift for you."

The prospect of a gift had Harry bouncing up onto his feet, desperately curious. He never seemed to have grown out of his childish enthusiasm for presents—perhaps because he'd never got many of them _as_ a child. Normally he'd temper his excitement, but wasn't the whole point of this thing with Draco that he didn't have to tamp down his childish impulses?

So he followed Draco down the hall and into the guest bedroom with a broad grin of delight, and Draco gave him a fond, indulgent smile as he gestured inside the room. On the bed was an outfit made up of primary colours of the kind Harry remembered Dudley wearing when they were both wee. The shorts were bright red, and the shirt was white with a print of brightly coloured trains. There were a pair of trainers to go with, pristine white with three velcro straps instead of laces in red, yellow, and blue. It was quite Muggle, and undeniably an outfit made for a little boy, though everything looked to be about Harry's size. Harry's throat grew tight and he looked helplessly at Draco.

"Do you like it?" Draco asked, a touch of uncertainty in his voice. 

"Yeah…" Harry breathed, overwhelmed. "I… I never got to wear cool stuff like this when I was a kid. I think my Aunt tried to find the ugliest and most boring clothes she could at the charity shops." He fingered the pattern on the shirt, marvelling at its softness. "I've always liked trains."

Draco seemed relieved. "I thought it might be nice to have something to help get you in the right frame of mind. I'm not all that familiar with children, to be honest, but the Muggle girl at the shop said this would be perfect for a little boy, so I bought it and used magic to make the clothes a bit bigger."

"I thought using charms like that damaged the fabric," Harry said, mildly alarmed at the thought of harm coming to this outfit he'd already become ridiculously attached to.

"It does. But I wasn't sure if it would be something you liked or not. The clothes will last a couple of uses before beginning to fray. If this ends up being something you'd like to do with any kind of regularity, we can look into getting you something custom-made. Maybe even lots of somethings, a whole wardrobe if you'd like."

Wow, did that statement make Harry feel all kinds of things. He wasn't really surprised that Draco was the type to want to spoil Harry, to give him the very best of everything, but what _was_ surprising was just how appealing the thought was. He'd never been a particularly jealous person, but it had hurt as a child, seeing Dudley with a shiny new outfit every week, clothes he'd use and discard without thought or consequence while Harry was stuck with the same three, faded shirts. By the time Harry had money of his own to spend he was off to Hogwarts, where there was not only a uniform but an entirely different manner of dress, where people wore robes instead of jeans and flashy T-shirts. Harry had never liked drawing attention to himself, so he'd stuck with muted, solid colours, even if his gaze occasionally strayed towards something loud and flashy, _immature_. But Draco wanted Harry to indulge his desires, wanted to help him do it, and already the feelings inside of Harry were too big for words.

"Would you like to change now?" Draco asked gently. "You can meet me out in the living room when you're done."

Draco turned to leave and Harry was filled with a strange surge of panic. He didn't want to be alone. "No, wait!" he called out. Draco turned around, his expression somewhat alarmed, and Harry continued in a small voice, "Will you stay with me while I change?"

Draco nodded slowly. "Of course. I'll wait right here for you." He sat in the armchair in the corner by the window.

Even though Harry was the one who'd asked him to stay, he found himself overcome with the shyness of a little boy, like he'd just met a strange adult he thought he liked but wasn't quite sure of yet. He turned his back, blushed, and quickly undressed, leaving on his socks and pants as he tugged on the new clothes. Harry wasn't sure why he felt so embarrassed—it wasn't as if Draco wasn't _intimately_ acquainted with Harry's body. But this felt different, a new kind of vulnerability.

There was a mirror hanging on the wall and Harry peered into it with a small amount of reservation, unsure of what he would see. He was immediately captivated. It was wild how much a set of clothes could age somebody, or rather, _de_ age them. He looked into the mirror and saw himself as he'd been at six, only instead of a too-large, threadbare shirt and a sad expression, he was wearing an excited grin and clothes that fit perfectly. Harry looked the way he imagined he might have if his parents hadn't died, if he'd had the chance to live out the childhood that was taken from him. But no, he didn't want to go down that path, not right now. Not when a boundless energy was welling up inside of him, urging him to run around and play, to throw his arms around Draco and thank him for the gift. 

Harry was used to following his instincts, and finding his inner child—whatever that meant—was what this whole afternoon was supposed to be about, so he listened to his gut. He turned around, grinning at Draco, a flash of pride going through him at Draco's pleased expression.

"You do like them then," Draco said with satisfaction.

"I love them!" Harry agreed, bounding over to Draco and plopping himself in Draco's lap, snuggling in for a hug. As much as Harry craved touch and affection, he wasn't great at initiating it after a childhood that had taught him it would only be met with rejection. But something about wearing these clothes, about having Draco care for him, stripped away all those barriers. He didn't think twice of physically showing his appreciation for what Draco had given to him, and Draco tugged him close, ruffling a hand through his messy hair.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Harry. You look brilliant in them."

Harry pulled back and beamed at him, and Draco blinked in apparent surprise before his own face melted into a matching grin. 

"I thought we could watch a Story Spell, but I've also got some different toys to play with, depending on what suits your fancy."

"What kinds of toys?"

"I've got the Adventures of Merlin enchanted action figures; some One, Two, Three, Arithmancy blocks; a My First Potions set; and a Charmed Child practice wand."

Harry's eyes went wide. So many options! He'd not even thought about the fact that magical toys and games would be different from Muggle ones. Harry wanted to try them all, but he had no idea where to start. He gnawed on his lip and looked pleadingly at Draco.

Draco seemed to understand, giving Harry a kind smile and another ruffle of his hair. "Why don't we start with the action figures? I… may have gone a little overboard and purchased all of the accompanying sets and settings to go with the figures. We can use the other study to set up the castle, enchanted forest, and town village."

Harry grinned, pleased that Draco had made the decisions and was excited to play. He followed Draco out of the room and down the hall, marvelling at the change that had come over Draco, the subtle shift of energy. Harry had been worried that he wouldn't be able to see Draco as anything other than his boyfriend, but from the moment they'd decided to play, something changed within them both. The connection between them was altered in a way that was hard to define. The man in front of him was still Draco, but he was different, too. This Draco made Harry feel comforted and safe, he made him feel small—not in a bad way, but like Harry was something precious to be protected. Not that Draco usually made him feel uncomfortable or unsafe. Harry trusted the man with his life; he had to, in their line of work. But the things Harry felt for Draco, the desire and admiration, the thought that _this could maybe turn into something real_ , none of that was safe or easy. It was uncertain and unknown, thrilling and terrifying, each day a new discovery as they figured out how they fit. Normally Harry's stomach was a jumbled mess every time they were together, filled with butterflies and want, tentative excitement tempered with caution. Right now, all of that was gone, and it was a relief. Those were the thoughts and cares of adult Harry, and for now, at least, they were no longer his concern.

There were several boxes stacked against the wall of the spare office, which Harry noticed had been mostly cleared of furniture. The boxes were glossy and covered with brightly coloured moving images of the toys contained within. Harry's gaze immediately went to the grouping of boxes that clearly contained the various Merlin action figures and accompanying sets, watching as knights raced around the corner of the largest box while a dragon swooped behind them. Harry's fingers itched and he bounded over to the box, tearing it open before freezing when he remembered the fact that these were technically Draco's toys and he should probably ask permission. He looked guiltily over his shoulder and Draco laughed.

"Go on, then," he said indulgently. "Let's get this set up."

Harry lost track of how long he played with the action figures. Each of them had been enchanted to perform a variety of tasks on command, and Harry became absorbed in directing their interactions, laughing with delight each time he discovered something new. It was just like the expansive Action Man sets that Dudley had loved and Harry had envied, but even better because _his_ set came with a miniature town with tavern lights that twinkled and townspeople that cowered whenever Harry commanded the tiny dragon to fly menacingly overhead. Draco sat nearby and watched, joining in occasionally to help with the constructions, smiling encouragingly whenever Harry asked _did you see that?_

"Harry." Vaguely Harry registered Draco calling his name, but he'd just figured out how to get Merlin to shoot green sparks out of his tiny little wand and he was utterly absorbed. "Harry!" This time the tone was firm and sharp, jolting Harry out of his game. He turned towards Draco.

"It's time for dinner. Put your toys away and meet me in the kitchen." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it at Draco's no-nonsense look. "No arguing. You can play some more after dinner."

Harry grumbled but did as instructed. Draco stayed for a few moments, likely to ensure Harry followed his directions, before slipping out of the room. Harry left the scenery he and Draco had constructed but made sure all the loose figures were tucked away where they couldn't get stepped on and ruined, and then he made his way to the kitchen.

There were two place settings on the table, and it was no mystery whose was whose. Draco's meal was set on fine china and looked to be some kind of roast meat with sprouts and potatoes. Harry's meal, on the other hand, appeared to be alphabet soup, presented in a bright-red bowl clearly meant for children with a matching spoon and plastic cup. Harry's stomach growled, reminding him that he actually _was_ quite hungry. And alphabet soup sounded much better than sprouts, that was for sure!

After they finished eating, and Harry had finished spelling out words with the dregs of his pasta letters, Draco cleaned up the dishes with several quick spells.

"Did you want to play some more?" Draco asked. Harry furrowed his brow in thought. He wasn't ready for all this to be over, but the boundless energy of earlier was starting to fade, leaving him somewhat sleepy. Draco gave him a shrewd once-over. "Why don't we cuddle on the sofa for a bit and watch a Story Spell?"

Harry nodded. He wasn't entirely sure what a Story Spell was, but cuddling on the sofa with Draco sounded nice. Harry followed him into the living room, crawling onto the sofa and waiting while Draco disappeared for a moment before returning with a children's book.

" _The Courageous Crup_ ," Draco said, brandishing the book. Harry could just make out an animated black and white Crup bounding across the cover before Draco tucked the book against his side. 

Draco settled in against the arm of the sofa, giving Harry an expectant look as he opened his arms. Harry didn't need any further encouragement. He wedged himself between the cushions and Draco, wrapping an arm around Draco's middle and pressing his cheek against his chest. Beneath him, Draco hummed, his body vibrating pleasantly as he ran a hand through Harry's hair and down his back.

"Ready?" Draco asked, settling his arm comfortingly around Harry's shoulders. Harry nodded, burrowing more firmly against Draco's chest.

Draco grabbed his wand with his free hand and whispered a spell Harry didn't recognise. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, and then Harry gasped as sparkling light began to pour from the pages of the book that Draco had Levitated in front of him. He looked down at Harry, seeming to realise Harry hadn't ever seen anything like this before.

"Story Spells are a kind of magic that's been woven into a particular story. The magical illustrator has created moving imagery that activates as the story is read aloud."

"Like a film!"

Draco's brow furrowed as he thought it over. "Yes," he said slowly. "I suppose the concepts are… similar."

"Okay, you can read now."

"Oh, can I?" Draco said with amusement, but he obediently switched his attention back to the book hovering in front of him. Harry smiled as Draco's cool voice washed over him a moment later, watching as the pretty lights formed a bright and playful Crup.

"Once upon a time, there was a Crup named…"

* * *

Harry blinked drowsily as he began to awaken. He was dazed and disoriented for several moments—he was clearly not in his own bed. He seemed to be sleeping half on top of somebody and, based on the fancy coffee table right in his eyeline, they were on a sofa. A movement on the table caught his eye, and he focused on the large children's book in front of him with the happily bouncing cartoon Crup, and all his memories came rushing back.

He and Draco had been in the middle of a… a scene, with Draco reading him the book while Harry watched the magical rendering with fascination. At some point Harry must have fallen asleep. He wondered how long he'd been out for, and if he'd broken some kind of etiquette. Surely it wasn't on to just pass out while one was in the middle of playing. His cheeks warm, Harry shifted and looked up at Draco, who was awake and looking down at him, his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled.

"Did you have a good nap?"

Harry nodded, somewhat shyly. He _was_ feeling surprisingly well-rested; usually naps left him feeling more exhausted than before, but right now he felt invigorated. 

"How long was I sleeping?"

"Oh, not long. Twenty, thirty minutes maybe?"

That was a relief. He pushed himself up off of Draco almost reluctantly, feeling quite clingy. "What time is it, anyhow?"

Draco craned his neck to look down at his watch. "Just after seven."

Not too late, then. He snuck a glance at Draco, who was sprawled casually across the sofa, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and exposing his pale and shapely forearms. A throb of arousal pulsed through Harry. They weren't having sex during their scenes, but surely they'd finished for the day, right? There was still plenty of time left for a different kind of fun. Harry had never felt so relaxed, his mind calm and quiet for the first time in ages.

He opened his mouth to say something suggestive but he looked down before he could speak and realised he was still dressed up in the clothes Draco had got for him. It wasn't exactly an outfit that inspired the kinds of sexy thoughts Harry wanted Draco to be thinking right now.

"Err, do you mind if I change?" Harry asked, somewhat awkwardly.

"Of course not. This is definitely a good stopping point for today. Why don't you change and then meet me in my room? It'll be more comfortable for us to talk there."

"Comfortable?"

Draco held up a hand that Harry hadn't even realised he'd been clutching tightly. "Something tells me we're not quite done cuddling for the evening." He smiled to let Harry know he didn't mind. "Every sub is different, and I'm not entirely certain what your aftercare needs are after dropping into littlespace as opposed to subspace, so communication is key. We'll talk some more after you change, okay?"

Harry nodded and wandered back to the guest room where he first changed. Falling asleep and waking up again had seemed to slip him out of the littlespace he'd been in for most of the afternoon, and Harry felt the rest of it fall away as he shucked off the little boy clothes, carefully folding them and placing them on the bed. It was like the burden of adulthood he always carried around had been placed once again on his shoulders, but it seemed somehow lighter than before, or at least more manageable. His session with Draco had refreshed him. He waited for the shame to come, but it was nowhere to be found; he felt too good. Harry wasn't so naïve as to think he'd escaped it entirely, but for now he just let himself enjoy its absence. 

He looked down at his regular clothes and debated pulling them on over his pants, but the thought of being curled up with Draco skin-to-skin was unbelievably appealing. Harry felt a bone-deep need inside himself to be as close to Draco as he could get, so he grabbed his clothes in a bundle under his arm and made his way to Draco's bedroom.

Draco was already in bed, looking mouthwatering in a pair of low-slung dark grey joggers and a tight white shirt. He tossed aside the book he'd been flipping through when Harry came in and gave Harry a slow, thorough once-over that made Harry's cock twitch eagerly. Draco's lips twitched into the barest hint of a smug smile as he pat the bed next to him in invitation. Harry didn't need to be told twice, and he dropped his clothes on the floor in a heap—ignoring Draco's nose-wrinkle of disapproval—before crawling onto the bed and wrapping himself around Draco.

"How are you feeling?" Draco asked as he rubbed a hand soothingly up and down Harry's bare back.

"Good. Really good. I was more aware of it this time, of slipping into that headspace. It was…" Harry trailed off, not really sure how to describe it, the feeling of weightlessness, the way his mind seemed to actually regress. He wasn't sure if he'd have been able to cast a proper spell like that; the complexity of even a first-year spell had felt beyond his little mind. It was a somewhat frightening thought, being so vulnerable, but he hadn't felt scared or unsafe at all. Not with Draco there to watch over him.

"You were lovely," Draco said softly, his tone almost awed. "I've never seen you look so carefree, so… unburdened." He hesitated, his hand momentarily stuttering in its path along Harry's back before resuming. "I could tell, when you looked at me, that you were seeing me through your pre-Hogwarts mind, without all the baggage and history between us. I hadn't realised how powerful that would be, for you to see me not as Draco Malfoy, but as your"—Draco hesitated again—"caretaker."

Harry blushed. He knew caretaker hadn't been the word Draco had been thinking. It filled him with a hot combo of want and shame, because he'd be lying if he said there hadn't been a few moments while he was under, where he'd wanted to call Draco by a different name. But that seemed like too much, too deviant, somehow. Draco had been nothing but wonderful and kind and game for anything throughout all of this, but he'd also admitted this hadn't ever been his usual kink. Harry didn't want to scare him off. Hell, Harry didn't want to scare _himself_ off. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to look Draco in the eye again if he called him _Daddy_.

"Yeah, I don't think I was really conscious of it, but I guess I really wasn't thinking of you as the boy I knew at school, because Hogwarts wasn't something that was on my radar. You were just like… this person I trusted implicitly to take care of me and keep me safe. I didn't even have to think about it."

Draco's smile was sunshine bright. "That makes me very happy. I know it's a vulnerable position you're putting yourself in, and it's an honour that you're willing to share that with me."

Harry flushed, Draco's words stirring up his libido once more. "I definitely think the play is non-sexual for me, at least it seems to be right now. Sex isn't something I was thinking about at all."

"That's good to know. I wasn't getting any of those vibes from you. It's perfectly fine if it doesn't ever have a sexual component for you." Draco paused significantly. "It's _also_ perfectly fine if that changes as you play more and become more comfortable and confident."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, somewhat dismissively, not sure he entirely agreed. Besides, he had more pressing matters on his mind. "But I definitely _do_ want sex. With you, right now, in case that wasn't clear."

Draco laughed and pressed a warm thigh up against Harry's groin where he was already half-hard. "Oh, it's clear. Though we should probably talk about that, too."

"Ugh," Harry said with a petulant sigh. "More talking?"

"More talking," Draco confirmed. He rubbed his thigh once more against Harry's hardening cock. "But we can make it quick."

Harry swallowed heavily. "Quick is good."

"When you say you want sex outside of our ageplay scenes, what kind of sex are you thinking about? Do you want to keep things totally vanilla? Are you interested in experimenting with other types of scenes and kink?"

Harry hummed, thinking it over. As much as he wanted to say he didn't care at all so they could just skip the conversation and get straight to the sex, Harry knew it was important.

"I'm definitely… interested in experimenting with other things, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet."

Draco nodded. "That's fine. We'll go at your own pace."

"That doesn't mean I want to sex to be entirely vanilla though."

"It's okay if you do," Draco said earnestly. "Like I've told you, it's not something _I_ need if you aren't going to be into it."

"I'm into it," Harry said, adjusting his position until he was lying on Draco's stomach, looking down at him with heated eyes. "I like it when you're in control." His cheeks grew warm but he pressed on. "I'm not sure I want a proper scene just yet, but I like the idea of playing around a little bit with some of those activities I said I was interested in."

Draco's pupils dilated as he ran his hands down Harry's back to cup his bum. He pulled Harry down more firmly against him, grinding their cocks together, and Harry moaned.

"You want me to take charge?" Draco asked, his voice smooth velvet. "I can definitely do that."

In one fluid motion he rolled them over, pinning Harry to the bed and taking Harry's lips in a hungry kiss. Harry shuddered into it, sliding his hands through Draco's hair and arching up into the firm weight of his body. They'd barely even started but Harry was keyed up and ready to go, already desperate for Draco's touch. He wondered what Draco had planned, eagerly hoping that getting fucked was on the menu. They'd not gone that far yet, and it had been ages since Harry'd had a proper shag. Right now, getting fucked through the mattress sounded like just about the best idea ever.

"Merlin, I want to fuck you," Draco groaned into Harry's ear, almost like he'd read Harry's mind.

"Yes, please, do it."

Draco let out a sound like a purr and Harry's pants disappeared with a burst of magic, leaving him entirely nude. There was another prickle of magic and Draco's clothes had vanished as well, and Harry shivered with pleasure at the feeling of Draco's bare skin against his own.

"How do you like it?" Draco asked as he sucked on a spot behind Harry's ear that made Harry quiver. It was clear from Draco's tone that it was more command than question.

"Like this," Harry breathed. "Want to see you."

Harry swore he could feel Draco's smile pressed against his throat. 

"What do you like for prep? Do you prefer me to really work you open, get you writhing on four of my fingers so I can just slide my dick right in? Or are you the kind of bloke who likes to _feel_ it?"

"Fuck!" Harry shouted as Draco bit Harry's nipple. He looked down and Draco raised an eyebrow in question. Harry flushed and nodded, and Draco gave him a cat-who-got-the-cream smile before dragging his teeth over the other nipple. 

"Well?" Draco prompted after Harry was silent for several long moments, losing himself in the pleasure-pain of Draco abusing his nipples.

"I, erm, I like to feel it I guess? I mean, I still like a bit of prep, but I don't need much."

Draco had begun to make his way steadily down Harry's stomach and he nuzzled against Harry's flushed cock, breathing hot and damp against the head until it twitched. There was another staticky discharge of magic, and then slick fingers were sliding over his perineum and towards his arsehole.

"Spread a little wider for me, Harry," Draco said in that petal-soft purr of his, the one that made Harry want to drop to his knees and do whatever he commanded. He inched his legs a little wider, giving Draco better access, and Draco pressed a kiss to his thigh in approval as he began to slide a single finger inside.

Harry sighed, relaxing into the sensation he'd grown to enjoy. It had been a long damned time since he'd experienced this with another person as opposed to using his own hands and toys, and he let himself enjoy the feeling of Draco's finger as it slid in deep. Draco had gorgeous fingers, long and dexterous, the kind of fingers Harry had imagined doing all kinds of filthy things to him. He thought he might enjoy it if Draco spent some time fingering him open until he begged for it, but not tonight. Tonight he was too damn keen to get Draco's dick inside him, and thankfully Draco seemed to be of a similar mind. He quickly slid in a second finger, pressing the lube inside of Harry and making sure he was nice and slick, his muscles suitably relaxed, before pulling out and settling on his knees between Harry's spread legs.

His hand found his dick, sliding slowly up and down as he coated it with the rest of the lube, hypnotising Harry with his movements. Fuck, but Harry wanted to get his mouth on him, wanted to feel that thick length on his tongue, but that would have to wait for another day. Tonight, he'd rather have it in his arse, and he spread his legs a little wider just to make that fact abundantly clear. Draco huffed out a laugh as he shuffled close, rubbing his cock along the cleft of Harry's arse.

"You want it?" he teased, and Harry nodded, too turned on to play coy. Draco's smile was pleased as he leaned in, brushing his lips against Harry's ear and whispering, "I want it too," as he began to push inside.

They both groaned in unison as Draco filled Harry up. These first few moments always took Harry's breath away, and he gasped as he relaxed into the pleasurable burn. Above him, Draco's eyes glittered, his mouth slack with pleasure as his hips pressed up against Harry's arse. He held himself there for several moments while his hands found Harry's and moved them up by Harry's head, pressing them down against the mattress, holding him there.

"Ready?" Draco asked with a quirk of his brow.

"God, yes," Harry replied, and Draco began to fuck him.

He didn't spend long taking things slowly or feeling Harry out—just a few gentle thrusts before he set up a deep, hard rhythm that had Harry's hands twisting in Draco's grip. He seemed to sense exactly how Harry wanted it, and Draco committed to delivering with his customary zeal. The pleasure didn't take long to build, growing and growing until it felt like Harry would burst. The fact that his movements were limited, pinned down as he was beneath Draco's body and with Draco's hands wrapped tight around his wrists, only made it all that much hotter. He'd had an occasional errant fantasy involving a bit of light bondage before, but it hadn't ever been an avenue he fully explored. Judging from the way he was reacting from just Draco's hands holding him down, Harry was _very_ much interested in seeing what other restraints they could play around with.

"Are you close?" Draco asked as his thrusts became faster, harder. 

Harry moaned his assent, wriggling beneath Draco, arching as best he could in encouragement.

"Then do it, Harry," Draco growled. "Come for me."

It was as if Draco's words had a direct line to Harry's cock, and suddenly he was coming, his release pulled out of him with the force of Draco's command. Draco fucked him right through it, screwing in nice and deep before finding his own release as he held himself inside Harry's arse.

"Stay the night," Draco said after he'd pulled out and cleaned them both off. They were curled up together naked on Draco's massive and ridiculously comfortable bed. The last thing on Harry's mind was leaving.

"Yeah, all right," Harry said, snuggling in closer. "As long as there's coffee in the morning."


	7. Chapter 7

Harry leaned back against the bartop as he waited for his refill and looked out over the crowded pub. His mates occupied a large table in the corner and he couldn't help but smile as he watched Seamus gesticulate wildly, clearly in the middle of one of his epic tales. Their group of friends tried to get together every month or so to catch up on their lives now that they'd all gone in different directions, and the table was quite full tonight, with fewer people having to beg off than usual. Harry still saw Ron and Hermione several times a week, but with Rose still in nappies and baby number two on the way, the dynamic between them had changed. Most days Harry didn't mind, but it was hard not to feel a little left behind when confronted by the fact that he and his best mates were at such different places in their lives.

Which was one of the many benefits of pub nights, when Harry got to spend time with a slightly wider friend group and remembered he wasn't the only one unmarried and without children, that he wasn't behind schedule or missing out. Harry always left the pub feeling energised and happy, reminded of how much he genuinely loved spending time with his friends. He was forever resolving to be better about staying in touch, but somehow time always managed to get away from him.

He had quite enough on his mind lately as it was.

The barman placed a foaming beer down in front of Harry and Harry handed over several Sickles before making his way back to the table. He settled into the free chair next to Blaise, who'd become a regular at these outings about six months ago when he and Ginny had started dating. Things had been a bit tense at first between him and the rest of the group, but he'd doggedly continued to show up, and eventually the tension had more or less eased. Harry had discovered, much to his surprise, that he and Blaise actually got on quite well. They'd formed a friendship of sorts, albeit not one that had progressed beyond the confines of pub night or the occasional Sunday lunch at the Burrow when they were both in attendance.

"All the others are quite distracted by Seamus's latest tale of housemate woe," Blaise told Harry as he sat down. Harry snorted. Poor Seamus lived in a house with five other people, all of whom appeared to be absolutely bonkers. They'd all tried to convince Seamus to move out at one time or another, but Seamus never did; Harry was pretty certain Seamus actually liked the chaos, if for no other reason than he always had a new story to tell at pub night. 

"What's it this time?" Harry asked, glancing over at Seamus who was waving his wand a little _too_ enthusiastically.

Blaise's lips quirked into a charming grin. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of robbing him of the chance to tell you himself. Be prepared, though. This one involves an improperly filled ice cube tray, an unfortunate absence of loo roll, and several minor explosions."

Harry winced. "Oh god."

"Never a dull moment with Seamus. But while everybody's distracted…" Harry gulped—that tone of voice never boded well, nor did the insinuating waggle of Blaise's eyebrows as he continued, "If you wanted to tell me more about this mystery person you've been seeing, I'm all ears."

Harry's face grew warm and he took a hurried sip of his beer, his heart racing with giddiness and guilt. Apparently the spring in his step of late had not gone unnoticed by his friends, and there'd been plenty of good-natured ribbing all night in an attempt to get Harry to fess up to a new lover. He'd been unable to hide his goofy smile at the teasing, thinking of Draco and the glorious month they'd spent together dating and exploring a whole new side of Harry. They'd had a couple of additional ageplay scenes since the first, not to mention several "vanilla" dates and _lots_ of sex. It still shocked Harry, how insanely compatible they were in so many different ways, how they could go from scintillating conversation over a meal in a Muggle restaurant to insanely hot sex in Harry's shower to Draco cutting up a hot dog for Harry to eat off his child's plate while listening to one of the kids' radio shows on Draco's Wireless. It didn't seem like it should work, that it would be possible for one person to be all of those things for Harry, and yet…

But he wasn't ready to share Draco with the world, not right now. He knew Blaise was still good friends with Draco and would be one of the least likely people to judge their relationship, but telling Blaise before he'd even told Ron and Hermione didn't sit right with him. He and Draco were still figuring things out, and he should probably have a conversation with Draco to determine what exactly their relationship _was_ before announcing it to all and sundry. Besides, Harry couldn't help but remember his friends' frosty reception of Blaise when Ginny had first brought him around, and he wasn't even a Marked Death Eater the way Draco was, nor had he been so personally nasty to them back at Hogwarts. Everybody Harry cared about had plenty of reasons to despise Draco Malfoy, and though Harry didn't plan on keeping him a secret forever, he couldn't help but be wary of the inevitable growing pains that would follow the announcement they were together.

Then again, he knew Draco had made amends with both Luna and Neville, that he was something like friends with them, even. Everybody knew that Harry had become closer with Draco since going through Auror Training together, and the few times Hermione and Ron had crossed Draco's path, they'd all been perfectly civil. Draco had personally apologised to a lot of people after the war, but he'd be the first to acknowledge that nobody owed him their forgiveness. As much as Harry wanted all his friends to care about Draco as much as Harry did (well, maybe not _quite_ as much), he couldn't begrudge them if it was one bar too far.

Sitting there, though, drinking his beer, surrounded by his friends and thinking of Draco, Harry realised it wasn't too far for _him_. Somewhere along the way Harry had forgiven Draco. He'd not forgotten. He wasn't sweeping that ugliness under the rug and pretending it hadn't ever occurred, that Draco had always been the man he was now, the one Harry cared about so deeply. But Harry was no longer carrying that blame and anger towards Draco around in his heart. He'd seen how Draco had changed, and he had reached an understanding of the man Draco had become. They _got_ each other on a deeply fundamental level that Harry hadn't experienced with anybody other than Ron and Hermione. And even then, there were things Draco knew about Harry that even his best mates weren't privy to. Harry had let Draco inside in a way he'd never done with anybody else before, and he trusted Draco with those most secret, shameful parts of himself, something Harry didn't do lightly. He liked Draco, he _more_ than liked Draco, and though Harry was pretty sure it was too soon for that other L-word, he thought it probably wasn't far off with the way things were going.

Harry was happy, and he wasn't planning to give it up, not even if his friends disapproved. 

"Don't know what you're talking about, mate," Harry said innocently when it became clear Blaise wasn't giving up without an answer. "Nothing to tell."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Mmhmm. Nobody here believes that story, not even your unobservant Gryffindor friends."

Harry grinned, familiar enough with Blaise by now to know he was being humorous, not insulting. "It's still… new, yeah? I want to give it a little longer before I sic this lot on them."

Blaise tipped his glass in acknowledgement. "Fair enough," he agreed, a knowing glint in his eye that made Harry feel slightly uneasy. "I'll stop pestering you about it… for now."

Harry laughed. "Much obliged."

"Now let's see, what else can I pester you about instead?" Blaise mused. "You know, I couldn't help but notice when we were talking about our favourite trips earlier that you were suspiciously silent. Even Hermione mentioned going on holiday to Germany, boring as her idea of touring every museum in Berlin sounded." 

"Not you, too," Harry said with a groan. He wasn't sure what had started it, but lately his mates—Ron and Hermione in particular—had been on him to go on holiday. True, the only time off he'd taken since he started the Aurors had been when Ron and Hermione had got married several years ago, but he _liked_ his job, and it wasn't as if he was feeling particularly overworked. Besides, _Draco_ was at work, and lately Harry wanted to spend as much time with him as he could, even if they weren't actually partnered and didn't get more than the odd break together.

"They're not wrong, you know," Blaise said before taking a sip of his ridiculously expensive Japanese whisky. "It's good to take a break every now and then, recharge, see the world."

"Yeah, I guess." Harry actually wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of the world; he'd never so much as left Great Britain. But going on holiday alone didn't really strike his fancy, and though the idea of going somewhere with Draco sounded quite nice, he wasn't sure they were ready for a weekend away together. Maybe soon.

"Well I happen to have a villa in Italy. Tuscany, wine country, absolutely gorgeous," Blaise continued blithely. "I'd be happy to let you stay there if you ever get the urge. Just let me know."

"Sure, I appreciate it," Harry replied. It _was_ nice of Blaise to make the offer, but Harry didn't imagine he'd ever actually take him up on it. 

"Oi, Harry," Ron called from across the table. "Seamus has an Auror question for you."

"Merlin," Harry said in exasperation. This wasn't the first 'Auror consult' Seamus had requested of him. "What have his housemates done now?"

Ron laughed. "Better let him tell you when he gets back from the loo. He seems legitimately narked off this time but it's Seamus, so…"

"You telling tales on me, mate?" Seamus asked Ron as he made his way back to the table. "Ah, Harry, just the man I wanted to talk to."

He took the open seat next to Harry while Harry exchanged an amused glance with Blaise. "I hear you've got a question for me?"

"Might do," Seamus began, a gleam in his eye. "Let's say, _hypothetically_ , that…"


	8. Chapter 8

Harry nuzzled against Draco's chest, practically purring with pleasure as Draco ran an absent-minded hand up and down Harry's back. They were curled up together on Draco's sofa, watching some Muggle cartoons on Draco's telly as Harry came out of his littlespace. He'd spent the afternoon in the outfit Draco had modified for him, though it was already beginning to fray, the growing charms finally beginning to take their toll on the fabric. Harry didn't mind—it was still nicer than anything the Dursleys ever got for him—but Draco insisted that there'd be something new for Harry to wear next time, which filled him with a quiet excitement.

It had been another wonderful afternoon, and Harry felt sleepily content as his adult brain slowly came back online as if it had finally recharged. It brought with it a renewed sense of awareness of Draco's body beneath Harry's own, so solid and strong. He squirmed as arousal began to pulse through him, and he mouthed at the patch of Draco's bare chest above his unbuttoned collar.

"Ahh, somebody's back I see," Draco said, his voice thick and slow as if he'd been napping. His hand slid down to Harry's arse, pulling him in so that Harry could rub his hardening cock against Draco's hip. 

Harry nodded, kissing his way up Draco's throat until he reached Draco's lips, sighing as their mouths met. He always seemed to have the horn after coming out of his littlespace, as if his adult side could think of no greater way to reassert itself than by getting off. Draco certainly never seemed to mind, always ready to give Harry whatever it was that he wanted.

"What would you like, sweetheart?" Draco asked, his voice still a bit drowsy. That must be why he called Harry sweetheart, which he never did when Harry was big. It made Harry's heart thump and his stomach wriggle. "Do you want my cock?"

That sounded perfect to Harry and he nodded before sliding off the sofa and onto his knees. Draco gave a startled chuckle, then adjusted himself so he was sitting instead of lying down. He'd barely even got settled before Harry was reaching for his flies, suddenly desperate to feel Draco down his throat. This wasn't the first time Harry had the chance to blow him, but he couldn't seem to get enough. 

The moment Draco's cock was free from his pants and trousers, Harry was swallowing it down, choking himself a little in his eagerness. 

"Easy there," Draco murmured, running his hands through Harry's hair and tugging a little to get him to slow down. "There's no rush."

Harry's cheeks warmed at the gentle rebuke and he forced himself to ease up, to really savour the feeling and flavour of Draco's cock on his tongue. He looked up at Draco, not even realising that he was hoping for praise until Draco gave it to him. 

"That's it," Draco said, his voice slightly unsteady and his tone pleased. "That's perfect. Just like that, my—"

He broke off, a strange and slightly hesitant expression creasing his face. Harry didn't want to stop sucking, so he made a noise of inquiry around Draco's cock.

"Ahh, I've been thinking," Draco began, his hips twitching as Harry suckled at the head of his cock the way Harry knew he liked it. "I'd like to try something. From your lists, if that's all right? You can say no. Or safeword out if we try it and you don't like it." 

Harry reluctantly pulled off. "Right now?"

"If you'd like. It's not a formal scene, more of a… hypothetical. I know you can get a little caught up in your head. I thought it might be easier for you to determine how you really feel about something if you had sex as a bit of a distraction."

Harry's stomach fluttered with anticipation. "Do I still get to blow you?"

"I insist on it," Draco replied with a grin. 

"All right, then," Harry agreed, and then he took Draco back into his mouth.

Draco moaned and seemed to lose himself for several moments, undulating his hips as his fingers carded through Harry's hair. 

"Fuck, I'm already so close," he said, and Harry let out a happy moan. He was pretty fucking close himself, aided by nothing more than the thick weight of Draco's cock in his mouth and his own hand kneading his trouser-clad erection.

"Did you know," Draco finally said after a long pause, "that you're still wearing your little outfit?"

Harry's eyes went wide with shock and he made to pull off Draco's cock, his cheeks flaming, but Draco shook his head and clenched his fingers in Harry's hair, stilling him. It was just enough to indicate his preference before he immediately unclenched, letting Harry know he could pull off if he really wanted to, if it made him too uncomfortable. Harry hesitated.

"I wasn't telling you because it bothered me," Draco said, his voice lower and rougher than before. He gave a gentle thrust into Harry's mouth, and though Harry's face was still burning, he resumed sucking, looking helplessly up at Draco, desperately turned on and slightly ashamed at the same time. 

"You always look so lovely on your knees for me," Draco murmured reverently. One of his hands slid out of Harry's hair and he ran the back of his knuckles along Harry's cheekbone. "But you look especially fetching tonight, my sweet boy." 

Harry shuddered so violently that there was no way Draco could have missed it. His smile turned indulgent, generous.

"Oh, you like that, don't you, sweetheart? You like being good for me, pleasing me."

Harry moaned and sucked harder, unable to tear his gaze away from Draco's hypnotic eyes.

"What if it weren't me you were being good for? What if"—he gasped, his hips twitching, clearly close to his peak—"what if you were being good for _Daddy_?"

The entire world went still and quiet for what felt like a small eternity before exploding like a supernova as Harry came in his pants. Draco eyes went wide and he muttered, " _Fuck_ ," before pulling out of Harry's suddenly slack mouth and wanking himself fast and hard until he came into the palm he had cupped over the head of his dick.

Harry blinked and panted, still in shock. That word had taken Harry completely off guard and there was no disguising his immediate and visceral reaction to it. Humiliation washed away the usual post-orgasm endorphins, leaving Harry off-kilter and mortified. It wasn't as if Draco hadn't clearly been into it as well; he'd been the one to start it, after all. But with Harry still kneeling there in his bright train-covered shirt, the word _Daddy_ ringing in his ears, it was hard to pretend that there wasn't maybe some kind of sexual component to this whole ageplay thing, after all. Harry wasn't sure he was ready to face that, ready to face what it meant, what it said about him that he could want Draco to call him his sweet, precious boy while Harry rode Daddy's cock. Maybe that was fine for other people, maybe some could get off on it and think it was no big deal, but Harry wasn't sure if that was him; he didn't know if he could handle it at all.

He stood up, giving Draco a shaky smile and trying to look unbothered as he backed away toward the guest room.

"I'm just gonna go change."

"Harry," Draco began, clearly concerned, but Harry waved him off.

"I'm fine, I just need to change."

He didn't give Draco a chance to protest further, just walked slowly but resolutely towards the guest room when what he wanted to do was run. Once the door was closed he tore off the clothes—literally, unfortunately, as the weakened fabric was unequal to Harry's need to get out of them and back to _normal_. His hands shook as he pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, and Harry needed to leave, needed some space. Everything here reminded him of Draco, and Draco was too tied up in these confusing feelings for Harry to possibly separate them and figure out what was happening in his head.

"Hey, so I think I'm gonna head home," Harry said in his best attempt at casualness as he walked into Draco's living room. 

Draco's head whipped towards him in alarm. "It was too much, wasn't it? Fuck, I thought you were ready to be pushed, but I clearly misread—"

"Can we—?" Harry broke off and took a deep breath. "Look, can we talk about this later? I'm not upset at you for pushing, that's part of your role here. I just need time to process, and in order to do that, I need some space."

Draco looked like he wanted to argue, like he was worried that letting Harry leave right now would be a mistake, but Harry couldn't handle talking about his feelings right now. Draco would make him face what had just happened, and Harry wasn't ready.

"We'll talk later," Harry said firmly. He made his way towards the door.

"Harry," Draco called out. There was something in his voice—worry and anxiety and self-recrimination—that made Harry's heart clench, but Harry couldn't stay, not even for Draco.

"I'll see you at work, okay?" Harry said, not turning around as he walked out the door. He didn't want to see the emotions on Draco's face that had made him sound so defeated when he'd said Harry's name.

He didn't want to see his own fears reflected back at him.

* * *

Harry blinked up at the ceiling, his eyes dry and aching from the complete lack of sleep. Judging by the light now pouring in from his window and the birds chirping far-too-loudly outside, it was now officially morning and Harry was no closer to figuring out what the hell he wanted. He'd tried to sleep on it, but sleep had evaded him. Instead, he'd spent hours lying in bed, his stomach churning and thoughts racing.

The only thing Harry was clear on was that he needed more time. Time to get his head on straight, to figure out if he could come to terms with these things his heart wanted that his head told him were wrong, or if he could live without them now that he'd had a chance to experience them. Neither option sounded particularly appealing, and there was a rumbling anxiety thrumming through him saying the clock was counting down on making his choice. Harry felt like shouting, begging the world to just… _stop_ , just long enough for him to get a handle on a life that seemed to be rapidly spinning out of his control.

Out of nowhere, Harry's conversation with Blaise several weeks ago popped into his head.

_"Well I happen to have a villa in Italy. Tuscany, wine country, absolutely gorgeous. I'd be happy to let you stay there if you ever get the urge. Just let me know."_

Harry had dismissed the offer at the time, but maybe it was exactly what he needed. He had more than enough time off saved up at work, and he and Sue Li had just wrapped up their latest case, so there wasn't anything pressing he was needed for. It was a crazy idea, impulsive and completely unlike him, but Harry had already fixated on the idea, certain it was the perfect solution. He couldn't escape his problems, but maybe they wouldn't be able to find him right away in Italy. He wasn't running, he just needed to hit pause, to take some time for himself. Harry knew he and Draco needed to have a good, long conversation about the kink and the future of their relationship, but before that could happen Harry needed to figure out what he wanted. It wasn't fair to Draco to keep stringing him along, not when Harry wasn't sure he could keep going down the path they'd been travelling on together.

Harry Summoned a quill and three sheets of parchment, penning a quick message and sending it off with Apocrypha and then sitting down to write the other two while he anxiously waited for a reply.

She returned ten minutes later, and Harry tossed her a treat before tearing open the missive attached to her leg. An ornate gold key fell out of the envelope and into his hand as he slid out the accompanying sheet of parchment.

> Harry,
> 
> I thought you'd never ask! The key is both an un-activated Portkey that will take you to the edge of the property and a key to the wards and front door of the villa. The place is all yours until further notice—enjoy!
> 
> -Blaise

Harry swallowed, unsure whether the feeling in his gut was anxiety or excitement. Perhaps it was both.

It looked like he was going to Italy.


	9. Chapter 9

Italy was great. Probably. Not that Harry was getting much out of it.

Oh, sure, he'd gone out every day and explored nearby Florence, but the sights barely registered. The gorgeous city and scenery were leached of all colour and passion in his current state of mind. 

Harry had been here for four days, and his thoughts were no clearer than they'd been when he'd left Britain. As soon as Harry got the letter from Blaise confirming that Harry could use his villa, he'd immediately sent off a missive to work requesting two weeks of leave. Robards had clearly been a bit annoyed at the lack of advanced notice, but he'd been unable to deny Harry's request, especially considering how much time off he had banked. 

Work taken care of, Harry had spent ten minutes haphazardly throwing clothes and toiletries into a travel bag before sending off the final letter he'd written. He'd been purposefully vague, telling Draco that he was going away for a while to have some space to think, and that he'd be in touch soon. Harry knew Draco would be worried and concerned when he read it, and Harry felt bad about causing him any distress, but he just couldn't bear to face Draco quite yet. So he'd sent off Apocrypha with the letter and then immediately activated Blaise's Portkey; knowing Draco, he'd immediately Apparate to Harry's place the moment he got the letter, which meant Harry wanted to be long gone by then.

The villa was lavish and far too large for just one wizard, but Harry hadn't really expected anything less from Blaise. He'd felt a bit decadent claiming the massive main bedroom for himself, but it wasn't as if there was anybody else with him who'd get better use of it. As soon as he settled in he'd sent an owl to Ron and Hermione telling them where he was and not to worry, and then he'd immediately gone out exploring, hoping that keeping himself busy would distract him from the churning in his gut.

It worked, for a little while, but at the end of each day he came back to the large, empty villa, with nothing to occupy himself with other than his thoughts.

He missed Draco.

It was ridiculous how much every single thing seemed to remind Harry of him, as if to constantly reinforce how much more fun this trip would be with Draco by his side. Certainly it highlighted what Harry had long been suspecting: he'd already fallen for Draco, hard enough that the thought of not being with him, of calling things off, had Harry's heart screaming out in protest. Harry was mad about him, but was that enough?

Their relationship was never going to be simple, but things between them had become so intense so quickly, and Harry couldn't have anticipated the additional confusion that the kink had thrown into the mix. Every time Harry had thought he'd made his peace with it—that there was nothing wrong or shameful about his desires—he remembered the hot shuddery feeling he'd felt at the idea of calling Draco _Daddy_ , and it made him want to hide in this villa forever. Draco had been great about everything so far, but though he'd been the one to introduce most of their activities, Harry _knew_ it was outside his usual preferences. Other than a bit of manhandling during sex, they'd not done any of the other activities Draco had mentioned being interested in; what was Draco even getting out of their arrangement, anyway? What would happen if he realised that the things Harry wanted were just a little _too_ out there and he'd rather have a partner who preferred playing with pain as opposed to building blocks?

Harry was nervous enough about telling his friends about his relationship with Draco as it was, but what if somebody were to find about the other things he and Draco did together? He could tell himself over and over again that pretending to be a little kid for a while was nothing to be ashamed of, but it was hard to make himself believe that when he imagined other people discovering that particular proclivity. How would anybody take him seriously? Thinking about the judgemental looks and horrible _Prophet_ headlines was enough to make Harry break out into a cold sweat.

But Harry had never been one to let other people's judgements prevent him from going after what he wanted, and he knew he wanted Draco. More than that, Harry couldn't deny that he didn't want to lose that sense of joy and freedom he'd experienced during their scenes together, when Harry had felt safe enough in Draco's presence to slip into that littlespace. He knew from his research that many people were able to get there all on their own, but Harry knew that wasn't for him. His notoriety and profession made him far too paranoid to be able to truly let go without having somebody he trusted there watching over him. Besides, Harry couldn't deny that there was something slightly addictive about being cared for the way Draco cared for him. Draco made it clear that he respected Harry as somebody strong and capable, a true partner, while also creating space for Harry to lean on him, to let Draco sometimes carry the burden. It was a balance that had been missing from Harry's previous relationships, where there'd always been a tacit expectation that Harry would take the lead and make the decisions, regardless of Harry's personal feelings on the matter. It was nicer than he could have expected, not having to always be in control.

But there was a difference between satisfaction in a relationship of equals, and enjoying having your boyfriend occasionally call you his good boy because you correctly brewed some Rainbow Hair Tonic from the My First Potions set. Try as he might, Harry felt like he kept hitting the same stone wall when it came to the kinky aspect of things. There was desire and shame in almost equal measure, and Harry didn't know which was stronger, didn't know how to jump over this hurdle. Harry wasn't sure he could get himself to a point of acceptance with his desires, but now that he'd had a taste, he wasn't sure he could go without, either. At least not if he was with Draco. Draco had made it clear, repeatedly, that he'd be happy enough to ditch the kink, but Harry wasn't sure he could turn off that part of their relationship even when he wasn't certain he could keep doing it. Those memories wouldn't disappear, and Harry wasn't sure he could be with Draco without the constant reminder that he could have what he wanted if only he could find a way to make his peace with it and ask.

Before Draco, Harry hadn't ever wanted anything like this, hadn't craved a—a _caretaker_ (and definitely not a _Daddy_ ), hadn't wanted to dress up in kids' clothes and play with toys. Maybe it was something that only Draco brought out in him, something that would go away if they were no longer together?

Was that something he wanted? Was there a choice he could live with?

Harry was contemplating this very question for the thousandth time, an undrunk glass of Tuscan Chianti sitting in front of him, when a sudden and insistent knock on the door pulled him from his reverie.

His brow furrowed. Blaise's villa was unoccupied for a good portion of the year, so there wasn't any reason for unexpected visitors to come calling. Hardly anybody knew that Harry was here in the first place, and the few that did wouldn't just show up unannounced—if there was an emergency, Ron and Hermione would come through the Floo address he'd sent them, otherwise they'd write first. Slowly, he got up from the sofa and made his way towards the incessant knocking. Wand at the ready, he warily opened the door and promptly froze when he saw who was on the other side.

Draco's fist was raised, clearly about to start another round of impatient knocking, though he'd gone utterly still the moment Harry had swung the door open. His normally perfectly coiffed hair was mussed and windswept, and there was something slightly rumpled about his robes, as if he'd dressed in a hurry and without his usual precise care. The delicate skin beneath his slightly wild eyes was stained a pale purple-grey, and Harry felt a pang of guilt at the evidence that Draco apparently hadn't been sleeping much better than Harry. Harry knew it was all his fault, but even through the self-recrimination and confusion, he couldn't help the sudden rush of pleasure at seeing Draco again. It hadn't even been a full week, but the force of missing him hit Harry right in the gut. He gripped the door to prevent himself from throwing his arms around Draco and hugging him tight, unsure of his welcome.

"Draco!" he finally managed to say around his dry throat. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

While Harry had been gaping, Draco had taken the opportunity to get himself back under control. He straightened, brushing off his robes and giving Harry a brisk nod.

"Hello, Harry. Apologies for the intrusion, but I'm afraid you left me no choice. May I come in?"

In a daze, Harry stepped aside and swung open the door, allowing Draco inside. Draco slid off his traveller's robes in one elegant motion, revealing the more form-fitting clothes beneath. Harry watched him hungrily, taking in the pull of his tailored shirt across his shoulders and the grace of his wrist as he sent his robes sailing towards the hook by the door. For all the mess in Harry's head, one thing he'd never questioned was how badly he wanted Draco, how right it felt being with him. Mere moments spent in his presence had already settled something in Harry's gut, a wash of peacefulness stealing over him, telling him that everything would be all right now that Draco was here.

"Now," Draco said, turning towards Harry with a wry smile on his lips and a slight wariness in his eyes. "While I can appreciate the need for space, I promise you England is plenty big enough for the both of us. In the future, while I'd much prefer we actually talk through any issues we may have, if you truly want to avoid me, you probably shouldn't involve one of my closest friends in your schemes."

"Blaise." Of course. Harry knew he and Draco were close, but somehow Harry hadn't considered that Blaise might tell Draco where he'd gone. 

"Blaise," Draco confirmed. "He knew I was seeing somebody new, though I'd not told him who—I know we'd discussed keeping things private for now. But apparently he'd put two and two together. I hope you won't be too hard on him about telling me where you were—he's quite loyal and wouldn't normally be the type to divulge a friend's secrets, but I'm not the only one who was concerned by your sudden and out-of-character departure."

Harry flushed. "I needed some space to think, and they're all always on me about going on holiday…"

Draco gave him a long, penetrating stare as Harry trailed off.

"Has the space helped?" Harry flushed and looked away. "That's what I thought," Draco said softly. "I think it's time for another one of those talks you enjoy so much. Let's go sit down."

He wasn't using his dommy voice, but it clearly wasn't a suggestion. As much as Harry had been putting off and dreading this very conversation, there was relief, too. Maybe now he could finally come to some kind of decision, get some type of closure, whatever that was. He followed Draco into the living room, curling up in the armchair while Draco took the chaise longue across from him.

"So," Draco began somewhat nervously. "I assume the whole Daddy kink thing I introduced has something to do with your flight from Britain?"

Harry goggled at him. He'd not expected Draco to come right out and say it so baldly. Draco stared at him patiently, and Harry gave a brief and somewhat reluctant nod.

Draco's jaw clenched and he ran a hand through his hair as he swore softly. "I figured. I should apologise. Clearly I pushed you before you were ready, and I shouldn't have let you leave when you were so obviously upset afterwards."

Harry winced, feeling guilty about making _Draco_ feel guilty. "It's not your fault. You're supposed to push me, and you didn't do anything I hadn't said I'd be interested in exploring. It just… I think it made it all a little too real. I never really allowed myself to think about what we were doing together, but when you said… _that_ … there wasn't any avoiding it, what it all meant."

Remorse flickered across Draco's expression. "I'm sorry, Harry. I knew you were struggling with this at the start, but you'd taken so well to the ageplay I hadn't realised it was still weighing so heavily on you."

"It's just…" Harry sighed, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "I know there's nothing wrong with wanting these kinds of things _intellectually_ , but emotionally… it feels like one more thing that makes me different and weird. I'm so tired of feeling like a freak."

"Oh, Harry." Draco's hands twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch, but they stayed folded in his lap. "You're not weird or a freak, and liking kink doesn't even make you all that different. There are a lot of people who are into various aspects of kink and BDSM—it just feels like there aren't that many of us because it's not something we really talk about publicly." He growled, clearly frustrated, though it became obvious as he continued that it was directed at himself, not Harry. "Another way I've fucked this up. I should have introduced you to the community straight away instead of keeping you all to myself. I was worried it would be too much, that it would overwhelm you and scare you off, but it left you feeling isolated and alone instead. If you'd like, I could bring you along to our next munch and you could meet some other people in the lifestyle. Maybe talk to a few other subs about their experiences."

Harry's brow furrowed as he tried to process what Draco had said. "Munch?"

"It's a sort of informal or casual gathering in a neutral space, like a park or a café. Basically, it's just a hangout session with like-minded, kinky people minus the leather and bondage gear. It's great for introductions and a low-pressure way to meet people and get involved in the scene without jumping straight into something a bit more intense or explicit."

The thought of meeting people filled Harry with equal parts of curiosity and trepidation. But these wouldn't just be _any_ people. They'd be people who were like Harry, who had maybe struggled the way Harry was struggling. "That… might be nice."

"There are a couple of people I think you'll really get on with; I should have broached the idea sooner. There's a munch next month, I'll get the details and let you know. Regardless of what we end up deciding, I really do think you should consider it. Even if you don't feel like pursuing kink right now, it can't hurt to speak with some people in the lifestyle other than me and get some other perspectives."

Harry nodded, his stomach churning too violently to speak as Draco casually reminded him that they hadn't actually figured everything out just yet.

"I also have the names of a few kink-friendly Mind Healers, if that's something you'd be interested in pursuing," Draco continued a bit more hesitantly. "I should have realised sooner that you'd need more than just my help, especially considering how desperately I relied on my Mind Healer and the kink community when I was first starting out."

Harry blinked. "You did?"

"What, do you think you're the only one who's struggled with their sexual desires?" Draco asked with a sardonic smile. "I know you've been… fixating on what you perceive as the abnormality of your desires, but that's actually something you have in common with a lot of people who enjoy sex outside what's considered mainstream. I'd say most of us go through a period of… reconciliation with whatever it is we're into, and I certainly wasn't immune to that." He frowned and looked away as he continued, "I didn't handle it well when I first started realising how much I enjoy taking control during sex, that the things I wanted went a bit farther than a bit of light bondage." He spoke matter-of-factly, but Harry could tell that whatever he was remembering was painful for him. "It didn't help that it wasn't long after the war and I was still coming to terms with everything I'd done, the things I'd been brought up believing. So then on top of dealing with that turmoil, when I finally had the chance to explore my sexuality and _that_ was what I discovered… I was terrified that there was something wrong and broken about me. That it was proof I really was bad and dark, given the kinds of stuff I fantasised about doing with a lover. It took a long time before I became truly comfortable with it, before I reached a point where I trusted myself enough to differentiate between my desire for consensual play and the kinds of atrocities I witnessed during the war."

Harry hadn't ever made that connection before. He'd never considered that Draco might have struggled with his own desires the way that Harry had been struggling with his. He always seemed so confident and sure.

"Okay, so maybe I'm not the only one with these fantasies, and maybe I'm not the only one who's struggled with feeling ashamed, but…" Harry trailed off, flushing. True, that was the biggest hurdle he had been trying to overcome, but it wasn't _only_ that. The kinds of activities that Draco had alluded to dreaming about weren't exactly the types of things they were doing together.

"But…"

"But I just don't see what _you_ are getting out of it!" Draco's eyes widened in evident surprise and Harry barrelled on. "I know you're all kinky and dominant or whatever, but that's not really what we've been doing beyond a bit of manhandling in bed. You said yourself that the whole ageplay thing was never really your scene. And maybe I might want to experiment with some of those other things you're into, but that's definitely not my main interest. I don't want you doing this just to humour me, and what happens if one day you get tired of playing"— _Daddy_ —"caretaker and want to find a proper sub to be with, somebody who likes all the same things you do and doesn't need you babying them all the time?"

"Okay," Draco said, clearly stunned and trying to process what Harry had said. "All right, I hadn't realised that was something you were worried about. If I've been unclear about how mad I am about you, then I should apologise."

Harry's cheeks flushed. They'd never been so direct with one another about their feelings before, and though he'd never really doubted Draco's affection for him, it was still nice to hear.

"Oh, Harry," Draco said, his voice softer and filled with regret. He stood up and reached out, tentatively at first, and then more boldly when it was clear Harry welcomed his advances. Draco pulled him off the armchair and into a hug, squeezing him tightly and pressing a kiss against the side of his head. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not very good at talking about my feelings." He stepped away, sliding his hands down to Harry's and tangling their fingers together as he looked him in the eye. "You asked what I get out of caring for you while you're in littlespace? Well, you're not the only one who gets into another headspace when we're in a scene. My childhood… it was charmed in a lot of ways, and I know that my parents loved me, but they weren't what I'd call demonstrative or affectionate. Hugs and 'I love yous' were rare occurrences, and more often than not, I was in the care of our house-elves. That kind of distant, slightly cold affection is my default, but I know that isn't what you need when you're little. I was worried I wouldn't be able to give you the care you deserve, but instead you've brought out a side to me that I didn't know I had. It gives me an immense amount of pleasure and satisfaction to be able to care for you, to receive your open and unguarded trust and to shower you with the kind of praise and warmth and devotion that I sometimes wish I'd had as a child. This isn't a one-way thing, Harry. I might not be playing the same role as you, or getting the exact same things out of it, but you're not the only one benefitting. I've _enjoyed_ exploring this dynamic with you, and if you never felt up for any kind of kink beyond what we've been doing, I'd be genuinely satisfied. I wouldn't lie to you about that. If I thought there was any chance it might not be enough for me, I'd tell you straight off.

"We also—" Draco broke off and took a deep breath. "I know I keep harping on this, but I feel like I need to make it clear"—he gave Harry a rather severe look—" _again_ that we can also do away with this entirely. I think that would be a mistake, not because I don't think we couldn't have a fulfilling relationship without it, but because it's clear to me that it's something that brings you genuine happiness and peace, at least when you allow yourself to forget about the rest of the world and just do what feels good. I want you to know that's always an option. Even if you just want to put a Freezing Charm on it for a few weeks or longer while you work things out in your head. It's not a prerequisite for us having a satisfying relationship, at least not for me."

Harry took a deep breath, unable to look away from Draco's magnetic eyes. "I know," he whispered. "That was part of what I was trying to reconcile. Because the thing is, I _do_ want to keep doing the ageplay scenes and exploring that further, but I get so caught up in the idea of it all. My head keeps cycling through this loop of feeling bad and weird and wrong. And even if we stopped entirely, I'd _know_ what it was like to have that, to have you _give_ me that, and I didn't know if I could handle going without."

"And now?" Draco asked, hope and apprehension warring in his eyes. 

Now, confronted with the man he hadn't been able to stop thinking about all week and listening as Draco tried to talk him through his anxiety spiral, Harry finally felt strong enough to go after what he wanted. He didn't want to lose Draco, and he didn't want to lose that peace he'd found with him either, even if it was unconventional. Maybe a lot of people wouldn't understand it—maybe _Harry_ didn't always understand it—but that didn't make it any less real. If he and Draco both wanted it and it wasn't hurting anybody, then what did it matter what anyone else thought? Nobody else had to know, and if they ever found out, well, Harry could cross that bridge when he came to it. Maybe by then he'd have fully made his peace with his desires, maybe he'd have worked past the internalised shame and guilt that even now still prickled at him, though he knew it shouldn't. That kind of conditioning didn't disappear overnight. He just hoped Draco had the patience to deal with him as he continued working on it.

"Now," Harry said, stepping closer until their chests were flush, "I want to be with you. I want this to be real, to tell our friends, and file paperwork with the Ministry's Wix Resources. I want to keep going on date nights, and I want to keep exploring kink the way we have been, though I can't promise I won't freak out again."

Draco grinned, pure pleasure beaming out of him. "That's all right. It took me years to really accept myself, and I know it's not some spell you can cast and, swish and flick, it's done. Just promise not to run away next time and talk to me instead."

Harry bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. You're not the only one who struggles with talking about emotions and personal stuff, but I promise to work on it. I want to be better at it. I really mean it, you know. I was a git for running off without properly talking things over with you, and I've been a mess all week. Having you here is the first time I've felt like myself. I want to be with you, I want this to work."

"I want this to work too, Harry."

That was all Harry could take without kissing Draco, so he stopped holding back and pulled him in close. Draco went easily, their mouths slotting together perfectly, the brush of their lips making Harry's insides light up the way it always did. How could Harry have possibly thought he could give this up?

"Take me to bed," Harry murmured against Draco's lips, too addicted to his kisses to pull away entirely. 

Draco clutched Harry more firmly, one hand in his hair and one tight around his waist as he growled, "Gladly," before the twist of Apparition took hold and they appeared in the middle of the villa's main bedroom where Harry had been staying.

Harry blinked. "How did you…?"

"I've been here before, Harry," Draco said with a raised brow as he began undoing the buttons of his shirt. "You're not the first person Blaise has offered up his villa to. But I promise that story isn't nearly as interesting as you getting naked."

"Right," Harry said with a grin. He didn't have to be told twice and quickly began to tug off his clothes. It hadn't even been a full week since they'd last had sex, but Harry was already desperate and keyed up. Harry had experienced _much_ longer dry spells and had been perfectly fine, but his body was used to regular sex now and wasn't keen on going without.

By the time he'd finished undressing, Draco was naked too, and Harry allowed himself a moment to look and admire. By now, Harry had grown familiar with the long lines of Draco's body, the pale skin over sinewy muscle, and the grace and power of his lean form. His cock rose proud and hard from a thatch of golden curls, and Harry's mouth watered from the memory of his taste even as his cheeks grew hot as he recalled what had happened the last time he'd been on his knees for Draco. He met Draco's eyes, which were dark and ravenous.

"Why don't you get on the bed for me, sweetheart." Harry shuddered at the endearment, his cock twitching appreciatively, and Draco's lips stretched into a satisfied smile. Draco nodded towards the bed. "Go on, then."

Harry crawled onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows and giving his aching cock a quick stroke as Draco prowled towards the mattress and crawled over him, straddling his thighs. He ran his hands up Harry's stomach and pecs before sliding his fingers though Harry's hair and leaning down for another eager kiss. 

"Thought we'd try something new tonight," Draco said as he ground his erection against Harry's.

"Yeah, okay, anything," Harry babbled, too lost in the sparks of pleasure shooting out from his groin with each roll of Draco's hips to pay his words much mind. 

Draco let out a pleased, fond laugh as he pressed up off of Harry and settled back on his haunches, his arse rubbing against Harry's cock. He muttered a Lubrication Charm, but instead of coating his own cock with the slick handful, he reached back and slathered the lube over Harry's. Harry's eyes widened as Draco's knuckles bumped against Harry's erection, as Draco then spread the slick along his own arsehole before grabbing hold of Harry's dick and holding it steady as he pushed up onto his knees.

"I thought—" Harry broke off, gasping as Draco began to sit down on his cock. "I didn't think you liked it like this."

Draco's lashes fluttered as his arse settled into the cradle of Harry's hips, Harry's cock buried to the hilt inside of him. His eyes slitted open, lazy and content as a Kneazle's, his smile equally indolent. 

"Why, because I like being in control?" He swivelled his hips and clenched around Harry's cock, a smooth, graceful move than had Harry moaning with pleasure. Draco smirked. "Having a cock up my arse doesn't change that." His gaze softened and he reached down to cup Harry's cheek. Harry nuzzled into the touch. "I'm still calling the shots, aren't I, baby?"

Harry gasped, his hips twitching upwards. He liked it when Draco looked at him like that, liked it when he called him baby.

"There we go," Draco cooed as he began to move. "Put your hands on my hips. Good, now I want you to keep them there. Just lie back and let me take care of you."

Harry held onto Draco's hips for dear life as Draco started to ride him in earnest, fucking himself on Harry's cock with a fluidity and skill that told Harry this definitely wasn't the first time Draco had done this. Not that Harry had ever thought Draco was inexperienced, but for some foolish reason he'd not expected Draco to display such a clear and obvious enjoyment of a good dicking. But as Draco had said, there was no confusion as to who was in charge here. Harry lay all but helpless beneath Draco as Draco brought them both closer and closer to climax.

"Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart," Draco moaned, his hands braced on Harry's chest as he angled his downward thrusts to hit his sweet spot. "Always so good for me, so perfect." Warmth flooded through Harry at the praise, at seeing Draco's face flush with pleasure and knowing he was the one making Draco feel good with his cock and obedience.

"I'm almost there," Draco continued, running his bottom lip through his teeth. "Be a love and wrap one of those big hands around my cock and help finish me off." It wasn't a suggestion, but Harry wouldn't have resisted even if it had been, more than willing to take hold of Draco's pretty, flushed dick. Draco groaned as Harry grabbed hold and began to stroke. "That's it, sweet boy, just like that. 'M so close. You've been so, so good."

Harry's orgasm came out of nowhere, triggered unexpectedly by Draco's unending praise.

"Da— _Draco_ ," Harry moaned, changing course at the last moment, pretending he didn't realise what he'd almost said when his guard had been so lowered.

"Fuck," Draco growled, his hips continuing to bounce on Harry's slowly softening prick as he batted Harry's limp hand out of the way and began to fist himself quickly. It didn't take much longer before he reached his own climax, his arse clamping down around Harry as he spilled onto Harry's stomach.

"Merlin, I needed that," Draco said several moments later as he slid off Harry's dick with a wince and reached for his wand.

Harry gave him a somewhat loopy smile, endorphins still buzzing through him. "Me too."

Draco cleaned them both off with a quick spell, then tossed his wand onto the bedside table before burrowing under the covers, pulling Harry against him.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've invited myself to spend the night."

"No," Harry said quietly, a soft warmth blooming inside him. "I don't mind."

"Good." Draco hesitated. "I'm not sure how much longer you were planning on staying, but if you wanted to extend your holiday and wouldn't mind some company, I happen to have the next week off myself. I'm no local, but I've spent a decent amount of time here. I thought it might be nice to show you some of my favourite spots."

Harry looked over at him, his eyes wide. "Really? That… that sounds perfect, actually."

Draco's smile was tinged with relief. "Yeah? Excellent. I've always found holidays more fun when you've got somebody along to enjoy things with."

"I've never really gone on holiday with anybody before, so I wouldn't know, but I can't say I've been enjoying myself all that much so far. Though I did have a lot on my mind."

"And how are you feeling right now?"

Harry made himself pause and truly think about it. 

"Good," he said, feeling at peace for the first time since he left Britain. He knew the doubts would likely creep back in at some point, but he finally felt like he and Draco were grounded enough for him to face those fears head on. He smiled and burrowed more firmly against Draco's chest.

"I'm feeling great."


	10. Epilogue

"Stop fussing, you look _fine_ ," Harry said as Draco straightened the lapels of his blazer for the eighteenth time. "It's just Ron and 'Mione, not the bloody Minister."

Draco shot him a scathing look. "You possess many talents, Harry, but an eye for style isn't one of them, so you'll forgive me if I don't rely on your discerning judgement when it comes to the appropriateness of my attire."

Several years ago that retort would have got Harry's back up, but he knew Draco well enough by now to be aware that he got extra supercilious and snarky when he was freaking out. It was something Draco had been working on and, sure enough, he shot Harry a regretful look a moment later.

"Sorry, Harry. I know you keep saying this is just dinner with your mates, but we don't have the best history, do we? And there will be… children present. You know how I feel about babies."

Harry laughed. "All right, I'll give you that Hugo's still in what I like to call the Mandrake stage, both in terms of looks and temperament, but Rose isn't so bad. And with the kids around, Hermione and Ron will be distracted from your lovely presence. Not that you need to worry!" Harry backtracked at Draco's worried expression. "It's not like this is the first time you'll have seen them since Hogwarts. You've all been perfectly civil when you've run into one another over the past few years."

"Yes, but I wasn't your partner, then," Draco fretted. "I just want this to go well. I know how important they are to you."

Warmth filled Harry's chest. He wasn't quite as zen about the whole thing as he was acting—he was sure tonight would be extremely bloody awkward. But he also knew they would all be making an honest effort, and that was what mattered. It had been a little over a month since he and Draco got back from Italy, and this meal had been weeks in the making. He'd told Ron and Hermione about Draco not long after they'd returned but then Hermione had gone into labour the very next day. This was the first night either of them were feeling up for company.

"You're important to me too," Harry said softly, moving in close to brush a kiss against Draco's lips. Harry knew how much Draco liked control, and for somebody like him it would be incredibly frustrating knowing that Ron and Hermione's feelings about him, and how the night went, was more or less out of his hands. So Harry reminded Draco of what he _did_ have command over.

"Just think about whatever you've got planned for us after we get back from dinner," he said in a throaty murmur, nuzzling into Draco's neck. "It'll be our reward for making it through in one piece."

He'd meant it to be reassuring—he knew _he_ was certainly looking forward to finally letting go of the stress he'd been carrying over how badly he wanted his friends to get on with his boyfriend. Apparently he'd missed the mark, however, because Draco pulled back and stared at him, his eyes wide with sudden worry.

"They don't… I mean, you haven't told them about… _that_ have you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason why I shouldn't? I mean, if there's nothing wrong with it, then…"

"No! I mean, of course there's nothing wrong with it. If you want to tell them you absolutely should, it's just, oh _Salazar_ , they're going to think the ex-Death Eater's chaining you up in his basement and beating you and—"

"Draco, relax, I didn't tell them! Just because I'm more comfortable with everything doesn't mean I want to shout it out from the rooftops. It's still… private."

Draco only seemed somewhat mollified by this, and Harry could tell he was working himself up into a lather. Harry needed to stop his anxiety spiral before it got out of control. He wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"It's okay. Everything's going to be fine, Daddy."

Draco went still and his eyes were dark with want when Harry pulled back to look at him, his cheeks hot. He'd not said that word often, and never outside the heat of the moment, when Draco would kindly allow him to pretend he'd not said it at all. He was hoping the word would halt Draco's tailspin and remind him of the things he _did_ have control of, but he hadn't expected it work quite so well, or for it be so hot when he felt Draco's cock begin to respond. For all that Harry had come a long way in accepting his desires, there was still a bit of a block in his mind when it came to using _that_ word. But maybe he was getting past it, because right now all Harry wanted to do was call Draco _Daddy_ again and see what happened.

"You," Draco said sharply, his voice low, "are incorrigible. Good boys don't tease, not when they don't have time to follow through."

Harry frowned as he looked over at the clock. Bugger. They were due at Ron and Hermione's in five minutes.

"I lost track of time," Harry said with a sheepish smile that quickly turned teasing. "Sorry, Daddy."

Another flare of heat, the high points of Draco's cheeks blooming pink as his breath hitched. 

"I hadn't planned on disciplining you tonight, but perhaps we're overdue," Draco mused. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco cut him off with a severe glance. "Don't argue, Harry. We've got to go or we'll be late." His expression softened as some of his earlier anxiety crept in. "I want to make a good impression."

Harry nodded and threaded his fingers through Draco's.

"Later?"

Draco grinned at him as they walked to the Floo.

"Later, sweetheart."

**Author's Note:**

> [Kudos ♥] and [Comments] are fabulous! I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://gracerene09.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
